


In someone elses shoes

by Cheeky Flauschball (Katti1983), Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katti1983/pseuds/Cheeky%20Flauschball, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: Sansa is having strange dreams where she is seeing through the hounds eyes.Are the dreams real or is she going crazy?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Story was originally an idea of Maracuya. The first chapter was created entirely by her.

In someone elses shoes

Chapter 1

It hat been a horrible day at court. As usual. Joffrey had harrassed her, and Sansa her sought Solace in die relative Solitude of the Godswood later on. After that she had completed some needlework – sadly in Queen Cersei‘s presence, and the womans vicious comments hat worn Sansa out. Now, it was still quite early in den evening.

„How productive have I actually been?“ Sansa thought, yawning. „I haven't done anything important. I've just willed away my time. As always.“

It was frustrating. At the same time, she feared for something to actually happen in her live, because it would surely be something bad.

Sansa ambled to the washstand and was grateful that for once her chambermaids – Cersei’s creatures – had not been lazy and had actually brought her fresh, cool water. So Sansa set to work to clean herself. After that, she put on her nightshift, prayed to the Gods to be spared a nightmare, and slipped between the sheets of her bed.

He was stamping down a corridor of the red keep. It didn’t belong to the royal wing, but didn’t belong to the lowly servants‘ sector either. No elaborate golden embellishments, but good flagstones on the floor and solid doors of decent quality. A guest wing, or a place for people of middle status.

He opened one of the doors and entered a room with whitewashed walls. It lacked all decorations, but it was tidy. There was a dark coat of armour in a corner. And the hounds helmet. SandorClegane!

He sat down at a table, and a moment later, a bony squire came in with a tray of food. There was a big, warm loaf of bread on it.

„Beef hotpot for dinner.“ Tha lad announced.

„I can smell that myself“ Sandor Clegane growled with a steel-on-stone voice. „Take a bowl for yourself and some bread, too. And than get lost. And here’s a copper for a tankard. But don’t you dare forget to give Stranger his carrot, understood!“

The squire pulled his head, nodded quickly, grabbed his food, and darted out of the room.

„Blasted lazy bugger.“ Sandor Clegane muttered and started to wolf down the remaining food. It was hot and quite tasty. For a while, there was just avid munching, accompanied by big swigs of beer. His face itched in the area where the good skin gave way to scars, but he didn’t care.

Burping, he stood up when he was done and grabbed his sword and whetstone. This was a bit like father under the Heart Tree.

The Hound winced, scratched his head and grumbled, „What was that!?“ Then, he shook himself like a wet dog. „No more thinking of that bleak, cold place in the North. No wonder the little bird got a bit weird in the head, what with all that snow up there. I really have to show her what heat means. Fuck, but she’ll be in heat for the first time soon enough. And not for a cur like me.“

Clegane shook himself again and set to work. He honed his sword with abandon.

After a reasonable while, he put down his weapon and streched himself. His muscles were sore.

„Tomorrow, I’ll bet that bloody Ser Foring to a pulp in the yard again,“ he cursed. „Arrogant ass of a hedge knight.“

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

„What is it?“ the Hound barked.

The door opened and revealed Ser Boros Blount.  
„You’ve got the early shift tomorrow?“ he asked.  
„And why do you want to know?“ Clegane shot back.  
„Can we swap shifts?“ Blount asked.  
„Why should we do that? Want to fuck a kitchen wench who’s of duty in the evening? Or not keen on guarding the court session in the early afternoon?“  
Blount snorted.  
„That’s none of your business. Just tell me: swap shifts – yes or no?“  
Clegane shrugged. „In that case, I can have a flagon of Dornish Red. So why not?And now abscond, before I get second thoughts on what to do with your face.“  
Blount gave him a hard look. „Envious?“ he asked and left before the hound could react.

Clegane hurled the -now empty – wooden ladle he had used for his stew at the clsed door.  
„What a shithole.“ he growled.  
Than he yawned.  
„Fuck, it‘s been a long day. I’ll rather go to bed.“  
He got up and neared his washstand. The water jug was half empty, but it was still enough for a quick cleaning. He put of his shirt and reavealed his hairy, muscled chest and his equally muscled abdomen… plus some scars from former fights. Next, he kicked off his trousers and grabbed a piece of cloth to clean his private parts.

His private parts! They started to react somehow! WHAt In tHE NaME oF…!

„Fuck me sideways, I’ve not even been thinking of the litlle bird!“ the hound cursed.

„Eeeek!“ Sansa squeaked and sat bolt upright in bed.  
Her hands flew to her hammering heart, and she was panting as if she’d been running really fast.  
The next moment her door flew open, and Ser Trant barged into her room.  
„What’s going on?“ he demanded to know.  
„Just…hhhh…just a nightmare. I’m sorry.“ Sansa explained sheepishly.  
Ser Trant harrumphed.  
„Not again!“  
With those words, he turned his back on her and left Sansa to her own devices. Bang! And the heavy, wooden door was shut again.

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her breathing.  
„Sweet mother have mercy!“ she whispered to herself. „What’s happened.“  
She remembered the last moments of her weird, outrageous dream and felt her cheeks burn like dragon fire. A lady didn’t have such thoughts. Just…just…

Sansa really had no words for what she’d just experienced. The only thing she could tell was that he memories were so vivid in her mind she couldn’t shake them off. What was going on here?

„And how will I be able to face the hound at court session tomorrow afternoon. If it’s true he’s got the late shift now, I mean…“

There was something very, very weird afoot, that much was sure.  
„I’ll look at my feet at all times, that’s what I’ll do,“ Sansa resolved.  
Her tactics were probably not elaborate and likel not very reliable, but it was the best she could come up with. Deep down, she knew the Hound would sniff out any insecurity of hers and would fall prey on it. That was even truer for Joffrey.

Skittish as she was Sansa had a hard time to calm down again. Only around the hour of the wolf was she finally exhausted enough to fall asleep once more. This time her slumber was unperturbed. Or at least mostly so. She did think she heard some sort of dark snoring…

Chapter 2:

The court session had been a dull affair so far. Joffrey enjoyed torturing his subjects as always. Sansa didn’t look. She just couldn’t. She kept her eyes on the ground and tried to not look up at the Hound who really had gotten the late shift. She prayed to be spared Joffreys attention today. But of course, she wasn’t that lucky.  
„How are you felling today, Mylady!“ the king asked her. Sansa prepared herself, because nothing good would come out of that introduction of the king.  
„I’m fine, your grace.“ Courtesies were the only armour she had now.  
„You look awful, my lady!“ the king replied. „Pale and sick.“  
„I didn’t sleep well, your grace.“ Sansa had to swallow down her fear hard. She could see the Hound stiffen behind the king.  
„Ser Trant, Mylady is pale. Give her some color.“ Ser Trant came closer and closer. Sansa prepared herself for the impact. His mailed hand met her stomach with such force that she flew backwards. She tried not to moan because of the pain. She got up on very wobbly knees.  
„How are you feeling now, Mylady?“ the King smirked an ugly smile. Sansa wondered how she could have missed his cruelty when first meeting him.  
„Thank you, your grace. I’m feeling more awake now.“ Joffrey stared at her.  
„Not fully awake, Mylady?“ he asked, gesturing to Ser Trant to repeat the action. Another blow hit her lower abdomen. She could hardly breath by now.  
Sansa stumbled back and fell. „Are you awake now, Mylady Sansa?“  
Sansa raised up as graceful as possible with wobbly legs and bowed before the king. „Yes, your grace. Thank you very much.“ One day he would suffer for all his cruelty. Of that Sansa was certain.  
„Than maybe now you are able to follow the session in full attentance!“ he snapped at her.  
„Yes, your grace.“ Of course this was her punishment for not looking at him all day. Now she had to look at him and his shield the whole afternoon. While standing there, she saw Sandor Clegane watching at her more often than not. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn he looked as worried as he looked angry.

After the court was dismissed, Sansa somehow managed to go to the Godswood and started to pray. She prayed for her brothers to be save and sound. And she prayed for her mother to not be devastated. And she prayed for Arya. She prayed for her to be save and to meet her again. She wanted to tell her how sorry she was for not being a better sister, for always trying to outshine her, for not regarding her more as she had deserved. She prayed for Jon, her sweet brother, to forgive her the harsh treatment of him. He would probably never learn how much she loved him and how highly she thought of him now. The Hound was right. She was a stupid little bird. She just had repeated all the words she had been taught by her Septa and her mother. And she regretted that now bitterly.  
But even now she still repeated that pretty words as they were the only arnour she had at all.  
Sansa was feeling so helpless and useless. She had never treated her dearest ones right. Her last interaction with her now dead father had been an argument. An argument because she didn’t want to leave that monster now sitting on the throne. Joffrey was right. She was a traitor though she didn’t have traitors blood. She was the only traitor within her family. Sansa started to cry. She didn’t derserve any better. This was her punishment for betraying her family and her loved ones. It was what was due to her. If she died here alone, it would be a just punishment.  
Than she heard heavy footsteps. Sansa couldn’t hide quick enough. The Hound entered her sacred little refuge.  
“What do you do here, mylord?” She looked at him with wet eyes trying to hide from his gazing eyes as best she could.  
“Not a lord, little bird. How is that belly of yours? Are you feeling sick?” He gave her a hard look. No pity was to be seen in his eyes. She touched her belly and winced. He blinked and came closer. ”Let me have a look, little bird.” He raised his calloused hand to her belly.  
“That is improper Mylord.” Sansa tried to evade him, but his hands shot forward very quick and held her firmly in place. “You rather want to become sick with no help whatsoever because of the blows you received?” Sansa stared at him wide-eyed. “Sick?” Clegane looked at her belly. “Aye. ‘ve seen it a few times. Can make you vomit and ache quite a bit.” He had a far away look by now. “ Can even bring you close to death.” His voice was barely audible right now. She started to raise her hand to his arm. He yanked it back suddenly. “Want my help or not?” he barked. Sansa nodded. He started to touch her belly carefully, felt it warily. Sansa winced a few times while he inspected her injury.  
“Didn’t I tell you to give him what he wants? What made you ignore him today?” the Hound was angry. That much was obvious.  
“I’m sorry, Ser. You’re right. I shouldn’t have treated my beloved Joffrey as badly as I have.”Sansa winced at the touch of his hand when it touched her abdomen. Sansa tried to push him away but he didn’t seem to recognize her defending moves.  
“Stop that chirping. I don’t believe the songs your singing. They are made to deceive and a dog can smell a lie.” He pressed his fingers carefully against her stomach. Sansa felt the pain acutely.  
But his words were frightening her even more. “Will you tell his grace that you believe I’m lying, Mylord.” His eyes were ablaze now.  
“NOT..A…LORD. Can’t you remember any new songs that you are taught? Are you that stupid, little bird? Or are you soft in the head?” he snapped at her.  
She started crying again. “Songbirds remember songs, but have problems with learning barking by vicious dogs.” The moment she heard her own reply her hands flew to her moth and covered it. What was she thinking to anger the Hound like that. He looked at her astonished. Than he barked a laugh. Loud and honest. And long. He laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes.  
“So the little bird grew some talons.”he smiled now. Sansa realized that she didn’t fear him when he was smiling even so his scares looked even more gruesome that way. But his eyes were gentler. And they were what frightened her the most. Sansa smiled back at him. She had to stiff a giggle. “Maybe there is a wolf in you after all, little bird.” He looked possitively soft at her now. Sansa giggled.  
“Thank you Ser. But I didn’t want to insult you. I only…” she looked at her feet now. “…grew tired of being trempled upon?” the Hound whispred in her ear. His eyes were still soft. Sansa took his eyes in. They had a beautiful grey that was nearly silver. They shone as bright as the moon. “And still not a Ser, little bird.”  
Sansa looked at him helpless. “I refuse to call you Hound or dog. That is not polite.” The Hound snorred. “Why would you care about being polite to me? I’m just a dog.” Sansa would not back down this time. “Because you deserve the same respect as everyone.” Than she looked at her feet again. “A dog should be happy for the scraps he gets from its master.” The Hound replied. “I fed Lady from my plate and my hands.” Sansa contered. The Hound looked at her thoughtfully. “That you have, little bird. That you have.” He turned around to leave her.  
Sansa suddenly couldn’t bare the thought of him leaving already. “Wait!” She ran after him. He stopped dead in his tracks. “What should I call you but Ser and Mylord than?”Sansa asked out of breath. “Dog!”he answered. “No.” Sansa replied. “Clegane?!” she suggested. He shook his head. “Clegane is also my brother. I don’t want to be mistaken for him.” Of course. Sansa could understand that well after what he had told her about his brother and the scarring he gave him as a little boy. She nodded. “What should I call you than?” She looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t care, little bird.” Sansa felt couragious for a moment “Sandor?” The Hounds eyes grew wide as did her own. What had she just done? “Suit yourself, little bird.” With that he left her alone in the Godswood again. A small wind was blowing through her hair while she watched him disappear.


	2. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffreys beating takes its toll on Sansa

Sansa was sitting at her window in the light of the dying sun. It was close to dinner time but Sansa didn’t feel like eating. She felt sick und wanted to vomit. Shae was standing by her side looking worried. “You look awfully pale Mylady.” Sansa didn't reply to that. She felt like fainting. She remembered Sandors words. “…make you vomit…” she could hear him whisper still.”…bring you close to death…” It were just two punches in the belly. It could not be that bad, could it?  
“It’s nothing, Shae.” Sansa wanted to believe her own words but Shae didn’t look convinced. “I have to get ready for dinner. Can you help me, please? ” Little chirping bird.  
Shae helped Sansa dress. She was fastening Sansas dress when Sansa suddenly felt light in the head. She tried to inhale but felt herself faint. Than everything went black.

  
***

_He was watching Cersei walk up and down the chamber of the small council, looking at her son like she was a hunted animal. “You may have killed her. What if she dies. Than we have no one to trade for Jamie. What did you…” Joffrey raised angrily from his chair. “I can do with her what I want. I am the king.” Joffrey interrupted his mother._

  
_“And what do I care if my Uncle dies or not…” Cersei glared at Joffrey threateningly. She was by his side swiftly, pointed with her finger at his chest and said. “Don't you dare. He is our family. We are all we have.”_

  
_“You better listen to your mother, nephew.” The Imp was sitting on a chair at the table of the small council room. “Without your family having your back, the other houses will descend on you like a pack of hyenas. They will take every weakness you show as an opportunity to bring you down. Your family is your strength. If our brother will be executed because of your mistake it will weaken us considerably.” Sandor wanted to roll his eyes. The Imp was thrumming at the table with his small fingers. Joffrey was staring angrily at his uncle._  
_“Sansa Stark is a valuable hostage and is to be treated with the utmost care. To endanger her life is not an option, nephew. Let’s hope that she will recover soon.”_

  
_Joffrey wanted to screech another response. “Your fiancé is being ill. It is your duty to take care of her. It is expected. We will go and visit her as a family. United, in our worry.” Joffrey scoffed._  
_“I, for instance, am worried. Even if it may just be for the well-being of my brother.” Than he walked towards the door. Cersei followed him reluctantly. Joffrey looked around, pouting like petulant girl and than he straightened his spine and walked after his family._  
_Sandor followed them._

_They walked through the halls entering the tower where Sansas room was located. There was no guard in front of her room._  
_“Where is the guard?” The Imp requested to know. Sandor just shrugged his shoulders. Than they heard some giggling. The Imp followed the voices. When he reached the next corner he stopped dead in his tracks. “Ser Boros? What do you think you’re doing?” They heard a screech and than a young servant girl fled the scene half naked. “Get dressed SER Boros. And than you will report to me.” The Imp looked very, very angry. Sandor felt a chuckle threaten to leave his lips but could swallow it in time. Cersei looked disgusted, the king looked sullen but probably for an entirely different reason._

  
_The Imp recovered rather quickly, knocked and entered the room. Maester Pycelle was standing at a table and was mixing something. By the little birds side sat her handmaiden with a sullen and worried expression. “How is she maester?” the Imp required after the little bird. The maester looked as skittish as ever. “She’s not well, Mylord. She suffered a trauma to the belly and would need pain killers and a lot of liquid. But she doesn’t awake and we can’t give her anything as treatment really. Only small doses when she would need plenty.”_

  
_Sandor caught a look between the Imp and the handmaiden. She looked foreign, exotic and very beautiful._  
_When he looked at the little bird, her beautiful red hair was darkened by grease, her beautiful ivory skin was covered by sweat. She was breathing heavily, he breast heaving in her too tight nightshift. She looked so weak. But even ill like that she was incredibly beautiful. A vision, the maiden made flesh._

  
_Suddenly he heard a gasp come from Sansas lips. His head snapped towards her. The Imp was recognizing this too. “Is everything alright with her, Pycelle?” Pycelle looked out of his debts. “That is the first reaction we got out of her in hours. Maybe she is waking up, Mylord.” Sandors heart leaped with hope. A feeling he suppressed immediately._

  
_“This is boring. Do you need my anymore?” Of course the king would want to leave. The Imp looked at him disgusted. “You’re the king. Of course you are free to tend to your many obligations, my King.” Cersei looked at her brother sharply. “Of course he has a lot of obligations. It was so kind of you to make time to visit our sweet Sansa. Come Joffrey. We have duties to attend to. Let’s go.” Joffrey smirked. “Come dog.” Sandor prepared himself to follow, bile rising in his throat._

  
_“Wait.” Joffrey glared at his uncle. “What now?” The imp looked at him. “Do you need Clegane very much currently. Or could I borrow him for a while?” Joffrey looked as if he didn't understand a thing. “Borrow?” The Imp rolled his eyes. “Yes, borrow!”_  
_“To do what, brother.” Cersei was turning around too. “To guard Sansa. Yes I know. He is Joffrey’s shield.” He raised his hands in mock defeat. “But I’m sure for a day or two the Kingsguard will suffice.” Joffrey raised to his greatest height possible. What wasn’t much considering his young age. He looked ridiculous at his attempt. “Sansa is protected well enough.” He tried to intimidate the imp by his height while the little lord just stood there unimpressed. “Yes we’ve seen that some minutes ago.”_

  
_Sandor heard a sound coming from the little bird.. His look flew back to the little bird. Her breast was heaving much more heavenly than before. Her skin turning positively green. He jumped to her side, putting her left arm to the side. When he was done he was raising her right arm and bending her knee upwards. “Help me turn her.” He looked at the handmaiden while shouting that. “Take her head and turn it with me.” Carefully but swiftly he pulled her body in his direction until she was lying on her left side her arms stabilizing her. The handmaiden meanwhile turned Sansas head with him. The moment Sansa was lying on the left as stable as possible she started to vomit. Sandor took a towel lying at the next table and caught her tongue, fixing it so she couldn’t swallow it._

  
_“Ew!” the King said. When it was over Sandor let go of her tongue and gave the towel to the handmaiden, breathing heavily. The Imp was standing by his side watching him carefully. “You see nephew. We are in dire need of Clegane here. He is most qualified to guard your pretty fiancé and help in case of need. Let him guard her for a day or two.” Before Joffrey got the chance to utter a protest the Imp continued. “The people of the keep will tell the whole town how you generously made your own shield guard her while your beloved was so sick and what a good fiancé you are to her. And what a kind and generous king.” With a swell of pride in his chest, the king looked at Sansa. “I AM a generous king. Let him guard her for a day or two.”_

_Sandor rolled his eyes at that. Unfortunately the handmaiden saw his eyes’ movement and couldn’t contain a smirk completely. He would have to silence her soon. ”I just hope she will come around in that time.” Sandor somehow managed to keep still. He realized he was breathing easier now. “I’m sure she will, nephew. Thank you for your generosity.” The king turned around and left the room. His mother looked at her brother displeased but said nothing. She left the room as well. Maester Pycelle was coming closer to the little bird again. “That was good work, Ser.” Sandor hated that man with all his might. “Not a Ser.” He uttered at the old bastard. “Clegane, you will be the Lady Sansa’s guard for the next few days.” Sandor was shooting the imp a teasing look. “Thank you, dwarf. I didn’t get that before.”_

  
_The imp didn’t raise an eyebrow. “A good dog as always.” Sandor wanted to strangle him. “Well, I unfortunately too have some duties to attend. You…” he was motioning to the handmaiden. “What is your name?” The handmaiden looked at him angrily. “Shae, Mylord.” Sandor was sure she wanted to rip his head from his shoulders. “Shae, you will give me an update about her faring every hour.” The handmaiden nodded not looking too pleased. “Good. Now I have to relieve SER Boros of his heavy duties of guarding a young girl.” The imp was nasty as always. Still, Sandor would have liked to see Boros face when receiving the news. An evil smirk was gracing Sandors scared lips._  
_At that the little lord left the room, looking back at the little bird._


	3. Chapter 4

_Sandor was standing guard outside Sansas room when he heard Pycelle and the handmaiden argue. The handmaiden was intriguing Sandor. It wasn’t very smart to argue with the grand maester. The grand maester might seem harmless but he survived four kings and had been the grand maester for decades. He even played a vital role in the fall of the Targaryens. No harmless person would ever achieve this much in this pit of snakes. The handmaiden was either even more naïve than his little bird to confront such a man or she wasn’t what she pretended to be._

_But maybe Sansa would wake up by their noise. When he heard the handmaiden shriek, he ran straight through the door, slamming it open only to see his little bird choking. “You,” he gestured to the handmaiden. “to the head.” The handmaiden immediately did what he told her. He bend his little birds knees, put her left arm to the side, raised her right arm and immediately turned her around. She vomited some white liquid to the floor. He opened her little mouth further, checking if anything was stuck in her throat. Gladly there wasn’t._

_When he could breath again, he turned to Pycelle and the handmaiden. “What happened?” The handmaiden looked angry. “He wanted to give her some milk of the poppy. Instead of swallowing she nearly choked to death.” Pycelle looked furious. “You are an impertinent woman. I will unveil your behavior to the king.” Sandor chuckled. “Do that, little man. And tell the king that the grand maester, his counselor for medical advice, doesn’t know that unconscious people can’t swallow.” Now Pycelle was beside himself. “And how would you know.”_

_Sandor laughed a bitter laugh. “Seen enough drunkards. Been one of them. Saw people try what you tried and saw their victims suffer the consequences.”_

_“Are you suggesting that I, the grand maester of all the seven kingdoms, don’t know more about medicine than a mere dog, a lowly servant to the Lannisters.” Sandor stared him straight in the face. “We are all serving the Lannisters, ol’ man. There we are equal, dogs or no.“_

_“I will not endure this any longer.”, the grand maester fret and left the room. The moment he closed the door, Sandor took the handmaidens wrist. ”Go, get some vinegar.” Shae looked at him incredulously. “Move now, woman.” Shae went to do as she had been told. Sandor kneeled before her. “Wake up, little bird. Please!” he was stroking her cheek softly. Nearly lovingly._

_He wanted her back amongst them again. He missed her beautiful blue eyes, her soft voice, yes even her constant chirping. He missed everything about her._

_Shae came back soon. Sandor started to rub the vinegar at Sansas temples and her wrists. The rest he was holding under her nose like some perfume. It smelled foul. Than Sandor saw Sansa take a breath._

_****************************_

Sansa smelled something close to her with a very strong odor. It smelled gods-awful. She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw were beautiful silver grey eyes, watching her intently. The second thing that came into her view however were gruesome scars. Sandor!

She had dreamed of him again. In her dreams he had been kind and caring. A true knight. Her savior. She smiled at him. He looked as her as if he had been struck by lightning, than a gruesome smile was gracing his lips and his eyes began to shine as if the sun had been caught in them. When he became aware that she smiled at him, he looked shortly behind himself. When he saw no one standing there he looked at her with a furrowed brow. “Still a little mush in the head, little bird?” Sansa turned away from him and started to look around. Where was she?

“Mylady?!” Shae was here. Sansa gave her maid a beaming smile. “You are in your room, little bird. You were unconscious for a day.” Sansa tried to comprehend what had happened. Shae came closer to her and cleaned her face. Sansa asked her to tell her what happened. “You didn’t feel too well after the beating the kings guard gave you. You were awfully pale and than you just fell to the floor and didn’t wake up. While you were unconscious you were sick. The hound saved you from choking two times.” That was what had happened in her dreams too. Sansa looked at Sandor and smiled at him. “Thank you, Sandor.” He looked at her with an appraising look. “Keep your chirping for the king, girl. I have no use for it. “ He seemed to be puzzled by her. “Mylady. I will go and inform the queen that you are awake.” Sansa nodded. She didn’t want to see the queen or the king but it couldn’t be avoided.

When Shae was gone Sandor wanted to leave the room. Sansa stopped him to thank him again. “What do you want, girl?” He grumbled. Sansa got up on wobbly knees to go to him. She nearly tripped but Sandor caught her. He wanted to growl at her but when Sansa cupped his bad cheek he silenced immediately. He tried to withdraw from Sansas touch. The moment he let go of her however she lost balance and he had to catch her again. Her arms were closing around his neck for balance. She looked him straight into the eyes. “They are no empty courtesies, Sandor. I’m honestly grateful that you are here, looking out for me. I am grateful for YOU.” He stared at her as if she had lost her mind. Sansa only smiled at him. A real smile. She meant it. He may not be as gentle as he was in her dreams but in one regards her dreams were true. He was helping her. A LOT. More than anyone else around here. “Will you help me back to the bed?” He did. He put her down ever so gently. She would never seize to be amazed by his physical gentleness towards her. His words were harsh but his touch was as soft as can be. Than he left the room without a further look at her.

After a short while there was a knock at the door and the king and his mother, as well as the grand maester entered the room. “Well, well, so you are finally awake. How are you feeling Mylady?” Joffreys evil smirk sent cool waves down her spine. “I’m feeling better, your grace.” Maester Pycelle came forward. He checked her pulse and her pupils. “She will be fine in no time, your grace. A little sleep and her pretty face will grace our halls again.” The king nodded. He didn’t look pleased. He actually looked indifferent. No wonder there. “Well mylady, I expect to see you tomorrow in court, completely recovered.” The grand maester asked him to reconsider. She would need at least another week. Joffrey would have none of it. He wanted to see her back in court within three days at the latest. Three days of relatively peace. Sansa couldn’t fathom her luck. The king told the grand maester to take care of her and left the room together with her mother. Pycelle gave her some milk of the poppy to ease her pain. Now that she could take it, he assured her, she would heal in no time. Soon Sansa fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor is trying to find out who wants to hurt his little bird.

_Sandor was walking towards the kitchens. His shift by the little birds room was over and he could eat and sleep. He was in dire need of both._

_He hadn’t slept at all since his little bird had fallen ill. He hadn’t been joking when he told her he had seen strong man die of blows to their bellies. He had tried to rationalize her condition: that the blows hadn’t been hard enough to do serious damage, that she was still young and likely to recover soon, that Pycelle knew what he was doing. But the nagging voice in his head, that always told him that she was unconscious for too long, should have awoken much sooner, just wouldn’t silence._

_The other nagging feeling, telling him that he shouldn’t be worried at all, that she was nothing to him, he tried to ignore. Thankfully the little shit and his mother had kept him busy with their nonsense. When the imp said that he only wanted Sansa to be well to get his incestuous dipshit of a brother back he seriously had wanted to throttle him. He didn’t give a fuck about the kingslayer. He had only wanted Sansa back. He had wanted to hear her nonsensical chirping again. He had wanted to mock her about it again and he had wanted to see her smile, drown in it._  
  
_He had been relieved that the king had agreed to the imp’s suggestion and that he had been able to look over his little bird. He never would have thought that Pycelle of all people would try to hurt her. He just didn’t seem to gain anything from it. But he had tried and he would pay for this. Before that Sandor would find out who was behind this. Pycelle hadn’t done this on his own accord. That he was sure of._

_First he needed something to fill his stomach and - most of all – information. Something was off with that handmaiden, too. And he had to find out what that was._

_When he entered the kitchens a lot of people sat at the tables and ate and talked and laughed. Wenches were sitting in the lap of soldiers and servants, flirting. They never went to him. No one wanted his ugly mug anywhere near to them, nor his gruff temper. And he loathed them anyway. So it was of no consequence for him. What he wanted, he bought with good money. No strings attached._  
_He got himself some chicken, his favorite and some dornish red. Than he took a seat in some corner, ate and listened._

_As soon as he started to eat he heard one of the soldiers laugh. “Really, the second within three days. One would think a holy man would have less appetite for them.” Sandor learned quickly that the soldier was talking about Pycelle. This week every second day another whore was seen entering his room. Everyone of them was leaving after a few hours, looking very unsatisfied. The kitchen roared with laughter. Sandor drowned his chicken with his good dornish red._

_The last whore that had visited Pycelle was a beautiful red head with fair skin and blue eyes. Sandor nearly sputtered his wine. If Sansa hadn’t been unconscious this description could have been her. The men laughed and suggested the same, that the kings beautiful betrothed tried to gain the grand maesters favor to get some help against the king. Sandor had to force himself to keep sitting at their suggestion._

_One wench asked how an old, stammering man could help the young lady. Another servant- an old, grey man, who was very, very deep in his cups- answered. His voice slurred while he spoke, but what he spoke was … useful. He had seen the grand maester and Tywin Lannister often together when the old king was still alive. Maybe the grand maester was still on good terms with the Lord of Casterly Rock and could help soothing the king against his betrothed._

_Sandor hadn’t known that but he wouldn’t be surprised when the old lion had his claws deeper in the politics of kings landing than it was known. Not just through his daughter and his grandson but through other means as well. That sounded like the old lion alright, always careful and manipulative. The real king of Westeros since the mad king. And the grand maester Pycelle was much more influential than most people gave him credit for. He had whispered into the ears of three kings successfully by now._

_“But it wasn’t the Lady Sansa.” The old cook stammered. ”She lay unconscious in her bed, didn’t she?” The people all agreed. One of the soldiers had seen the whore. He knew her to be Rose, a whore working in one of Baelish’ brothels. She actually was from the north just as the Lady Sansa. He had been in Winterfell when the king had been there. The soldier had seen Rose there. Many of the southern Lords had visited her there. Many soldiers too. She was rumored to be one of the best._

_Sandor knew Rose. He had visited her too while being in Winterfell. He had to agree. She was good. She was beautiful with her red hair, fair skin and blue eyes. But the shade of red was not as auburn as Sansas, a lot duller, much curlier and shorter than Sansas silken locks. The thought of Sansa locks made Sandor dream, how he wanted to bury his face in them and inhale her sweet scent until he drowned. If he wouldn’t have known better he could have sworn that a whiff of her scent graced his nostrils just now._

_His thoughts went to Sansas eyes. Rose’ eyes were a bright blue and not the deep sapphire blue of Sansas. Rose’ eyes were not nearly as intense. Sansas were like two pools where one could drown in. Roses fair skin was beautiful but Sansa had cute little freckles above her nose that Sandor always tried to count when he was near her._  
_Rose was beautiful, yes. But compared to his little bird she appeared lifeless and dull._

_She was a good source of information on Pycelle, though. But to visit her in Baelish’ brothel was not only risky but dumb. She was working for Littlefinger. Littlefinger was known for spying on all the visitor of his brothels. Every information the whores got, Littlefinger was sure to have soon, too. It was Baelish’ main source of information. He didn’t want the little prick to know about his interest in the little birds well being. It was in general undesirable for Baelish to know anything about him and Baelish had always had a creepy way of looking at Sansa. Littlefinger most definitely wouldn’t appreciate anyone but himself taking an interest in his prey. No, Littlefinger couldn’t know about Sandors interest in Sansa at all._  
_But how could he get Rose’ precious information, then?_

_Before he could dwell on this any further a wave of guards entered the room. Their shift had ended. They roared for food and wine. Some dragged some of the kitchen wenches in their lap. The merry party had started to drink heavily. Sandor was waiting like a hunter for his prey, waiting for them to forgo all cautiousness, waiting for them to betray their confidence and he didn’t have to wait for long._  
_“The king is beside himself.” Some guard uttered. His wench was stroking his chest and her hand was moving downwards. He continued to tell that the king had vent his wrath for the absence of the lady Sansa against Mycealla Westerling and other Courtiers today. When the Lady Sansa was still unconscious some houses had tried to present their daughters to the king as possible replacements for the Lady. Beautiful girls amongst them. But the king hadn’t shown any suitable interest to the offered goods. Instead he had taken a liking to tormenting the ladies. Another one each day._  
_Today it was Lady Westerlings turn. The king had been pointing out that she was as fat as a cow and was chewing as some. He suggested KINDLY that she shouldn’t eat so much. When the Lady had visibly shrunken into herself he let his more vicious streak show and ordered his kings guard to force all the cakes down her throat. The Lady Westerling had cried for mercy but no one cared or listened. She had sputtered the food on the floor again, vomiting and crying. The queen herself had been smiling at the on goings. Thankfully the Lady Westerling was as well an unimportant member of the court as she was an uninteresting target for the king and he soon got bored. Otherwise it might have ended ugly._  
_The whole court wished for the return of the Lady Sansa Stark for obvious reasons._

_Sandor wanted to scream at them that they were cowards and drunkards. But wasn’t he as well. To save his own skin he had never acted openly in Sansas defense. He had lied for his little bird once. He tried to warn her and show her how the king thought but he had never said a word against her tormentors. He was just as much a monster as they were. He wasn’t even worthy of kissing Sansas boots._

_He was so deep in thoughts that he saw the wench approaching rather late. She was nearly able to touch his shoulder. Startled Sandor grabbed her wrist hard, so hard it had to hurt her. She could have been pretty with her brown hair, brown eyes and pouty lips but somehow was just common. Her breast hang out of her blouse and left little to the imagination. Sandor looked at her angrily and asked her what she wanted. She tried to purr at him. “I want to please you, ser.” Sandor grumbled that he wasn’t a ser and that she could go and fuck herself. “Wouldn’t you rather have me fuck you, mylord.” Sandor recognized her now. She was the kitchen wench Blount had been caught with. “Not a lord either, wench. What do you really want? Coin?” The wench wouldn’t be discouraged. She was either very stupid or very brave. Or both. Every other wench ran from him if he was like that. And he had to pay a heavy price if he wanted them to stay. “I would like some coin, Hound. And I would like some pleasure as well.” She was wriggling in his lap, trying to seduce him. His cock didn’t really react. It was strange he thought. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about such an offer. He must be very tired._

_She was starting to stroke his cock in his pants and it stirred after all. “Do you want to leave, Hound?” she purred. No he didn’t want to. He hadn’t gathered all the information of the guards. But he could hardly tell her that. “You are Blounts wench. You think I want his leftovers?” She wasn’t in the least insulted. “Blount isn’t the only one who can vouch for my abilities.” Her hand was moving above his breaches seductively. He was getting harder by the second._

_The guards were rambling about the merits of whores and why northern whores were some of the best. They claimed that northern women were more obliging, though less passionate. Their skin was said to be fairer, the women more enduring. Sandor agreed to the skin but apart of that the rambling had become nonsense. There was no reason to listen to that anymore._

_“Not the only one, hmm?” he asked the wench. She nodded and told him that she also had served grand maester Pycelle. Now Sandors interest was raised. Maybe she knew something useful. “The old maester even recognized you’ve been there?” The wench smiled. “He recognized I was there well enough, though I hardly recognized him being there.” Sandor roared a laugh. The wench giggled and…talked. That was just too easy. “He is strange of late. Always mumbling into his beard as if there is someone else there. Talking about others and babbles nonsense.” Sandor didn’t know what to make of it. The old man always made himself look helpless and weak but that was a new one._

_She was wriggling in his lap. He was very aroused by now. But he still couldn’t believe she chose him. “Why were you coming to me? I’m hardly a maidens wet dream.” She tortured him further. “I like strong men. And I like huge cocks. I haven’t had both in a while.” She continued to torture him. But even in his state he knew she was lying._  
  
_She wouldn’t tell him the truth like that. “How pricy are you?” She didn’t even flinch. She named her price and they went off to a quiet corner. There she went on her knees and opened his trousers. He took her hair in his hands and yanked hard. She hissed and wanted to continue. When she saw his stare she stopped immediately, fear in her eyes. “What do you want wench? And don’t you dare lie.” He held a knife to her neck where he held her hair in a firm grip, forcing her to look at him. The wench didn’t have to be asked twice. She was one of Varys little birds, spying for him. She was very good in seducing the respective man, sometimes even woman and get the information she sought through the passion of the moment. He knew that most men were prone to this behavior. He had never been. But he wasn’t insulted. He was rather relieved that even the spider hadn’t figured him out yet. And he intended to keep it that way. “And what does Varys want to know, wench?” She smiled knowingly. “He wants to know if you like little birds really that much.” He cringed inwardly. Fuck. How did the spider knew this nickname. “What did you just say?” He held the knife closer. The wench became more careful. “One of the children heard you call Lady Sansa little bird. Varys knows she is important to you. He just doesn’t know in what way. He wanted my to seduce you and see if you would admit to it in any way. Like talking about her or show certain interest in her well being or such.” He was angry at himself. He had let himself go to much. “What children? And to what end does he want to know that?” The wench looked a little lost. “He prefers to send children to spy for him. Mostly the dirty, begging kind. They don’t raise much suspicion. And l don’t know for sure what he wants with this information. But I’ve got the impression that he was worried about the Lady. I really don’t know why though.” Sandor let go of the wench. “If I don’t find out anything useful he will probably send someone else. You wouldn’t know who to look for. I would probably loose my job here without him. I’m easily replaceable as a kitchen wench. But I could be of better use for you here.” She wanted to touch him to prove her point but Sandor only yanked her hair. He didn’t care very much about her fate but she was obviously smart and could be useful later. “Well, than tell him the truth.” She looked at him astonished. “Tell him I named her little bird because she chirps her courtesies like one of those bird of the summer isles that repeat everything you teach them.” She looked taken aback. “Really?” She couldn’t believe it. “Really! And that she doesn’t defend herself against that insult proves my point.” The wench smirked. “You are wicked, hound.” He had lifted his knife and closed his breaches. “Go to your master, tell him what you found out. But first I want you to tell me what you know of the little birds handmaiden. Who is she and what does she want?”_

_She smiled again and asked what he paid for the information. He liked her boldness. He threw her some coins and she told him that she had seen the handmaiden go into Lord Tyrion’s room regularly. Sandors eyes snapped up. He had seen the look the handmaiden had given the imp. So she was his spy than. The wench went on with a superior smile. She told him that the handmaiden had visited to imps room even in the night for hours, often the whole night. The handmaiden was the imps whore, then. The imp would want to know if Sansa had contact to her family and keep her safe for the sake of her brother._

_The pieces fell in place now. He told the wench to go. Before she left she turned around and watched him intensely. “You are not as bad as they say, hound. You could have hurt or kill me, but you didn’t. You are not the best of them but you are not the worst either. If you have ANY need of me, just call. My name is Iva.” She winked at him and left him looking baffled. Than he walked to his room to sleep._

 


	5. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa spends her day with Tyrion and Shae. She gets a wonderful present of Tyrion. 
> 
> Pycelle seems to be going crazy and frightens Sansa. 
> 
> Sandor is an ass to her.
> 
> Sansa has awful dreams and saved from them by her guard dog.

Sansa was awakening the next morning feeling exhausted as if she had stayed up the whole night. She had dreamed of Sandor again. Had dreamed that she was seeing through his eyes. Again! If Sansa hadn’t been so sure that this had been a dream, wouldn’t wake up every morning in her bed, she would have sworn everything had been real. She actually felt Sandor while dreaming every time, felt what he felt, thought what he thought and knew what he knew. It was as if she was Sandor Clegane. But this Sandor Clegane was not merely rough and unfriendly, but awfully smart, caring and protective of her. He was the closest thing to a knight she had seen in Kings Landing so far. She only wished Sandor would be like that during the day too.   
He had been once, when they were in the godswood and he checked her injuries. Sansa had felt so much cared for and save that day. The other times they had met, he was his gruff self again. Even when he had saved her life he had resorted to insults instead of accepting her thanks. But he still was the closest thing to a friend she had here.

Sansa stopped herself from daydreaming about Sandor Clegane and tried to get up. She still had wobbly legs and had to hold herself up by grabbing the bedpost. But she stood. She slowly walked towards her chamber pot. She most definitely didn’t want anyone to help her with that. She was thirsty too. She grabbed a glass of water.   
As simple as these action were, Sansa was relieved that she did them by herself. It was a frustrating experience to be so helpless in every regard. Just like a baby or an old woman. No wonder both parties whined that much. She didn’t like that feeling either and wanted to be self depending again as soon as possible.

Her door opened quietly and Shae entered. She smiled at Sansa when she saw, she was up. She came to her immediately and helped her to the closet. She helped her dress in a simple gown without a corset. Sansa was aware, she wouldn’t leave her room today but she wanted to be up at least and sew a little or read. Shae helped her into her armchair.

Shae than went off to get something to eat and drink for Sansa. She soon came back with loads of food: Fruits, bread, butter, some meat, water, some juice and cheese. Sansa would never be able to eat all that. Some servants helped her carry all this food. Sansa smiled at them and thanked them for their help. And she asked them to take some of the food for themselves. She couldn’t eat that much anyway. Even with Shae’s help. Shae looked at her disapproving but Sansa enjoyed the happy smiles that put in the servants’ faces. Sansa couldn’t help but giving them a brilliant smile when they left. One of them, an elder woman turned towards her and just mumbled a thank you to her with tearful eyes.

Sansa wondered how hungry they must be, if a little food would cause such a huge reaction from them. She wanted to ask Shae about it, when it knocked at her door. Shae answered and Tyrion Lannister entered her room. In his arms he held a lot of books. The books looked old and dusty. Sansa let out a little cry of delight. Tyrion smiled at that. He bid her a good morning and looked longingly at her food. Sansa asked him if he cared to join her and that she couldn’t eat so much food anyway. Tyrion looked at Shae. She just looked away and he sat down. Sansa asked Shae to join them but Shae stated that she was only a maid. “And my best friend. Come and sit with us. If you agree Mylord.” She turned the little lord. He agreed graciously, stating that it was an honor to break his fast with two such beautiful women. Sansa smiled and caught a glimpse of Shae blushing at that remark. They started to eat silently.   
After they finished Sansa looked at Tyrion’s present. She loved books. He had brought her books of the history of the seven kingdoms. He told her that these were of her fathers old library. He had borrowed them from her father when he had been their guest in Winterfell. He wanted to give them back to her family. Sansas eyes filled with tears. This books had been a part of her home and treasured possessions of her father, the last part of their once large library. They were part of what she had lost.   
Tyrion touched her hand to soothe her. She allowed it. She caught Shae’s look from the corners of her eyes. Shae looked at them with an unhappy expression. Tyrion saw her look too and withdrew his hand from Sansa’s immediately.   
If Sansa had any doubt about the nature of their relationship, these were gone now. Tyrion cared about Shae. And she about him. They maybe even loved each other. Shae wasn’t merely the little lords spy. But that also made clear that Shae wasn’t her friend but friends with her enemies. Even if it was the one Lannister who didn’t wish her ill for whatever selfish reason. She was all alone.

Sansa didn’t want to think on this any further and opened one of her fathers books. It was a book about the history of the seven kingdoms. It started with the children of the forest and the first men and everything the north knew about them. The Starks were said to descent from the first men. Sansa read a few lines aloud and told Tyrion and Shae what she could remember of the old tales about the first men and their war with the children of the forest. How the first men came across the arm of Dorne and how the children of the forest tried to end the invasion by conjuring the hammer of waters. Tyrion listened attentively to the tale how the broken arm and the Stepstones were made, about the magic of the children and how powerful they had been. He told her the stories that were told in the south. They lacked a huge part of the northern tale but the main content was still there.   
After a while Tyrion left. The looks he and Shae gave one another were no secret to Sansa anymore.

Throughout the day she read a little bit more on the children of the forest and their abilities. She learned that wargs usually warged animals like wolves who were used to follow orders by their Alpha anyway. And that ravens had once not only carried messages but had talked. The wargs had guided them to reach their destination and made them talk the message directly. And she read that cats were hard to control, that they were savage beasts who had their own minds and wouldn’t be controlled. Sansa had to smile. That sounded an awful lot like a description of Arya’s Character. She missed her wild, little sister.

Sansa memory went back to the stories old nan had told them as children. One in a thousand wargs was blessed with greensight, the ability to see the future and the past. And some could even talk to the dead. When the children of the forest and the first men started to mingle, these abilities were also to be found in men. But children, who had these abilities, were left to die in the woods. “Because who is to say if the man is wearing the beast or the beast is wearing the man?”, old nan had told them.

After a while she came to the end of the stories of the children of the forest. In between this and the next chapter were some empty pages. Sansa turned the pages over and over but couldn’t find anything written on them. The pages smelled a little bit of home, though.

In the afternoon, the grand maester Pycelle entered the room to look after her. He asked her how she was feeling but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he was babbling into his beard while preparing some milk of the poppy for her pain. Sansa couldn’t make out much of what he said. But he said something about others, just as the girl in her dreams had told Sandor. She couldn’t make out any more than that of his babbling. Sansa had the strong impression that he was rather confused and he seemed on the verge of madness to her. He whispered “Dead eyes, dead eyes.” a few times. Sansa got frightened. For a blink she thought she saw his eyes disappear behind a white curtain, his eyes appearing dead. She didn’t like what she saw. She was really glad when he was gone. And she didn’t dare touch his medicine. Something was very, very off with the grand maester. Shae looked at the milky liquid, took it from its place and threw it out of the window. “I’m sorry Mylady, but…” Sansa nodded her understanding.

Sansa didn’t want to stay in her room after this. She wanted to go outside. But she was too weak. She needed help so she asked Shae. Shae wasn’t too obliging. She didn’t think it a good idea. She was of the opinion that Sansa was still to weak. Sansa could hardly argue with that. So she resorted to begging. Shae finally gave in to her persistent pleading.

Outside the room Sandor was standing guard. He didn’t look to happy to see them. “What are you doing here? Back to bed with you.” He barked at Sansa. Shae headed back to the room. But Sansa didn’t oblige. “Please, Sandor, please.” She whispered.” I can’t stay in this room for a minute longer.“ He looked at her with hard eyes not bending the slightest bit. “Sandor, please. I need to be out of this room. I think Pycelle wanted to give me poison. I’m frightened. Please. I want to be away from here. Let me go.” His eyes got even harder. He looked positively furious. “NO! Back to your bed!” That had decidedly been an order. He wouldn’t bend, he wouldn’t let her go. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. “You are a horrible person.” Sansa threw at him. Sandor bend down and looked at her with eyes as hard as steel. “And what do I care for little birds opinions?” He raised back into posture and stared in front of himself, ignoring her completely. Tears streamed down her face. Sandors eyes were hard and cold as ice.   
Sansa knew he wouldn’t react to her tears, her screams or her pleadings. So she went back to her room. Shae looked rather satisfied with the outcome of this endeavor. Sansa was very cast down and only wanted to lay down. So Shae went to the kitchen to get Sansa her dinner. She came back after a short while. With her she had milk of the poppy. Sansa ate, took her medicine and made herself ready for bed. She was frightened and only wanted to hide herself.   
  
After Shae left, she hid her face in her pillow. She felt so awfully lonely. Sandor was cold like a cold night in winter and Shae loved Tyrion Lannister, her jailor. She didn’t have one true friend left in the world. She closed her eyes and after a while fell asleep.

**************************************  
Sansa was in a cavern below Winterfell. Her skin was furry and grey. In front of her were her brothers. Rickon and Bran. Bran was sitting down. Hodor was sitting next to him. A strange woman with black hair, that Sansa didn’t know, sat beside Rickon. Sansa wanted to go to them. But when she tried to touch Bran a thick mist appeared and made her brothers invisible. Within the mist she saw a red eye staring at her. “Leave him alone.” A voice boomed in the darkness. Sansa wanted to scream back but her voice was gone. Instead a growl escaped her throat. Who did the voice mean? She couldn’t ask. “Don’t touch him.” The voice boomed again.

Sansa heard a growl. She turned around. Before her stood Shaggy dog. The beast was growling at her and was readying itself to launch an attack. When it jumped at Sansa, she screamed. As loud as her lungs allowed her.

**************************************

  
Sansa awoke with a start. Above her loomed Sandors scarred face. He was kneeling before her bed. When she saw his worried expression she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. She cried. After a few second Sandors arms closed carefully around her. First he patted her on her back. When she crawled even closer into his arms, Sandor put one arm around her back. He held her close to his chest and was caressing her back carefully. His face was buried in the hair of her head. He was breathing her in, while Sansa slowly calmed down, holding his neck as strongly as she was able to.

She was save in his arms. She felt at home. His muscles felt like stone, but they were warm. When she had calmed down, he raised her chin with his finger and asked her with his rasping voice what was wrong. She told him of her dream and the tears began to quell again. “It felt so rea…*hicks*.” Sandor chuckled. She boxed him into his chest lightly. It felt as hard as a brick wall. “Don’t …*hicks*…laugh..*hicks*…at me…*hicks*.” Sandor still chuckled. “And how do you suppose I do that. This is actually funny, little bird.” Sansa hit him again in his chest, while still having to hick up. Sandor still chuckled, but got her some cold water. “Drink!” he ordered. Sansa obliged and the hick up got better rather quickly. “Thank you!” Sansa smiled softly at him. His eyes were looking softly back at her. “I wish you could be like that all the time.” She looked at him with doleful eyes. Sandor looked uncomprehending. “I mean, right now you are kind and caring and … nice. A few hours ago you were cold as ice and abrasive.” She was looking at him with doleful eyes. He put his finger under her chin. “So, my little bird wants me to console her in front of the king or his spies, so they can put my head on a spike for high treason, just like her father.” Sansas eyes filled with terror. “Joffrey would never do anything to you.” She looked at him frightened. “Wouldn’t he?” His face showed his thoughts clearly. Not even Sandor, his loyal guard of many years, Joffreys father figure, was save from his wrath. She was laying her arms around his neck again, her nose nuzzling against his bad check. She heard him draw in a sharp breath and felt his arms go around her waist. He was whispering his nickname for her. She was raising her head and was putting a light kiss to his check. He was holding his breath and staring at her. She just cuddled even closer. He caressed her cheek. His hand felt so good. “Thank for all you have done for me.” Now he looked angry. “Keep your chirping to yourself.” Sansa was angry herself. “No chirping, Sandor. You saved my life three times. And right now you console me like a real friend.” Sandor didn’t say anything for a while. He just looked at her. After a while he said: “I’m just like them, little bird.” She stared at him. “No. You are not. You never hit me before. And you don’t want to.” He shook his head. “You don’t know me, you don’t know what I did. You shouldn’t consider me your friend.” She took his head in her hands. “You killed Arya’s friend without a second thought. You probably killed thousands of people. You are not soft and gentle.” Sandor looked at her intensely. “And you protected me from falling to my death. You saved me from choking to death. Twice! You advice me as much as you can. You are the only one who cares about me here.” His eyes were warm as the summer sun. He was caressing her cheek softly. Sansa smiled at him, leaning into his touch.

“What was that with Pycelle?” Sansa told him everything she had seen and how much the man had frightened her. She told him that Shae had thrown away his medicine and got new one. He pressed his lips together. “No wonder you wanted to leave.” His eyes were hard. “Do you think you can sleep now? I am here, just outside the door. You just have to call for me.” Sansa reluctantly let go of him. “I’ll try.” He was laying her down on her bed and covered her with the blanket.

When he walked past her table he sniffed. “That book smells like that wretched lake in front of this weirwood tree of yours.” Sansa looked at him amazed. “What?” He smirked. “It smells like foul eggs. Just like the lake in Winterfell. ” With that he left the room, turning around with a smile before he closed the door. Sansa smiled, cuddled back into her blanket, still smelling him close to her.


	6. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

 

_Sandor stood in front of Sansa’s room, grabbing his sword tightly in its scabbard. She had kissed his bad cheek. He could still feel that tingle on his skin. He hadn’t felt anything on that side of his face since Gregor had burned it but her touch had seared through that marred texture like the most pleasant fire he ever felt. He touched his face, smiling. His little bird had cuddled into his chest and refused to let go as if he was her fucking savior. He didn’t want to smile but he just couldn’t help himself. He hated to admit it but he would do everything for her. Absolutely everything._

_He wouldn’t let her get hurt. Pycelle had tried to do so twice now. Sandor had tried to think of a possible reason Pycelle could have for what he did. He couldn’t find a single one. He couldn’t even think of one ally Pycelle had, who would wish Sansa’s death. Tywin wanted his son back, Cersei wanted her brother back. Pycelle himself would gain nothing if Sansa was gone. Quite the contrary. Tywin would probably have his head should Jamie be hurt because of Pycelle’s idiocy._

_The other houses wouldn’t gain anything by her death either. And they wouldn’t have the money or influence to secure Pycelle’s loyalties anyway. No one was richer or more influential than Tywin Lannister. So why the fuck did the old idiot try to hurt his little bird. Sandor was feeling like a dog chasing its own tail. He couldn’t see the direction the threat was coming from. He couldn’t do anything but stand by, watch and hope to be there in time. He hated it, felt helpless and angry like fuck because of that._

_In his mind’s eye he saw her pretty face again. Her trusting blue eyes directed at him, believing he could save her. The smile that lightened her face whenever they were alone. He felt her small frame again, cuddled into his chest as if she actually felt save with him. She had kissed his bad cheek and had called him her friend. Had she felt his hard on he had gotten by her touch, would she still think of him as her friend? His naive little bird. She saw him for what he really was and didn’t at the same time. Otherwise she wouldn’t still trust him._

_She was right on one account though. He didn’t WANT anything to happen to her. But he may one day be ordered to hurt her himself. Would he do it? Or would he rather die than lay a finger on her? He couldn’t imagine hurting her. It was like a sacrilege. But who would look after her if he couldn’t protect her anymore? The imp? Would he even care?_

_He felt the urge to be inside with her again, holding Sansa in his arms, save and secure. He wanted to feel her slender body pressed against his to make sure she was really there and not just a dream. He wanted her to be save again. He wanted to stand guard the whole day, knocking down anyone who tried to get close to her. He wanted to spirit her away to get her out of the capital. Everything at once. He felt like drowning, as if he couldn’t breath anymore._

_He was so distracted by his thoughts and worries that he heard approaching footsteps rather late. He straightened his spine and looked in the direction of the noise. Boros Blount came closer. What was he doing here? He wasn’t guarding Sansa anymore._

_Outside the window the horizon had turned violet. The sun was slowly rising but it was still dark. His shift was nearly over. “Had fun last night, Hound? Had a short nap?” Blount’s laughter sounded faked. Sandor rumbled. “I take my duties seriously. Not like you knights.” Blount snorted. “Why take it serious? As if anyone would care what becomes of her?” Sandor wanted to strangle him. He cared._

_“How is your kitchen wench?” Blount looked angry. “What is it to you?” Sandor smiled. So Iva didn’t have any use for Blount, now that he wasn’t guarding Sansa anymore. “Was she worth the trouble at least? “ Sandor just couldn’t help himself. Now Blount obviously wanted to hit him. “What do you want here, Blount?” Sandor was suspicious. There was absolutely no reason for Blount to be here. Blount started fidgeting nervously. “I’m waiting for Trant. His shift starts soon.” Sandor snorted. “And you had no other possibility to talk but here in the dark?” A sarcastic smile was gracing his lips. “Maybe you two want some alone time?” Blount was turning red with anger. Sandor laughed. He wasn’t finished with the idiot. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I promise!” Blount stepped in front of him. Sandor looked down at the knight, dwarfing him. “I’m no fag, Hound.” Sandor really enjoyed that. “No, of course not.” He grinned suggestively. Blounts ears turned red. He looked confused, not sure what to do. Sandor didn’t like Blount’s anxious face. “Or would you rather have me between your legs, Blount?” Blount turned on his heels and walked away from Sandor as quick as possible._

_Sandors smile faded instantly. ‘I have to find that handmaiden.’ Sandor worried what would happen, when he was not around. What the fuck was going on here? Why was everyone trying to get close to his little bird? Trant soon came to report for duty. Sandor went in the direction of the imps chambers. He hid in an alcove. He didn’t have to wait long. Sansas handmaiden came out of the dwarfs room sure enough. When she passed him, he grabbed her arm and yanked her to him. He saw her knife just in time and caught her wrist. “Stop that. I’m not here for a fight.” She glared at him. “You? What do you want, Hound?” He was actually relieved that the handmaiden was able to defend his little bird, if necessary. “Blount just came to your Lady’s room.” The handmaiden waited for him to go on. “He said he wanted to wait for Trant to start his shift.” The handmaiden didn’t buy that too. “Why can’t they talk during the day?” Sandor nodded. “Precisely!” The handmaiden looked at him seriously. “I take my knife with me and won’t leave her today.” Sandors mind was eased. “I will be back at sundown and will take over than.” The handmaiden looked at him questioningly. “Why do you care?” He stared at her. “Why do you? Did the imp tell you to?” The handmaiden looked at the floor. “What do you mean. What do I have to do with Lord Lannister?” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I waited for you here because I expected you to leave his room in the morning. As you did, wench. Don’t worry. I have nothing to gain by betraying your secret. So tell me. Did the imp tell you to look after Sansa?” She looked relieved. “Yes and No! No, because I do it of my own accord. She is treating me nicely. I like her. And yes. Tyrion wants her save.” Sandor snorted. “For his brother.” She nodded. “Yes. Mostly. But he also doesn’t agree with the treatment of her.” Sandor chuckled. “Would be a first.” She looked away from him again. “It’s not right how they treat her.” Sandor snickered. “Have you seen the Lannisters treat anyone nicely? The imp is treated like shit by his own family regularly. Just look at the way they talk to him. How his own father is denying him his birthright and belittles him at every possibility. And even Cersei was married for power, knowing what Robert was like. Tywin doesn’t care about anyone. Maybe about the kingslayer. And that’s it. And the imp is just like that.” She looked at him furiously. “Tyrion isn’t like his father.” He was glaring at her. “No! He isn’t. He’s worse.” She was ripping her wrist free._   
_His temper had gotten the better of him. He was angry at himself. “Will you take care of her?” She glared at him “Yes. But not for you.” The handmaiden would have killed him, if she could. “That’s as good as it gets.” He nodded his thanks to her and went in the direction of Pycelles room._

_He found another alcove. Luckily that bloody Keep had enough of them. It was easier to hide here than most people thought. He would find out what was going on, even if that meant he wouldn’t get an ounce of sleep. He hadn’t slept much the last week anyway. What was one more day? But he needn’t have to worry. The sun was still not up and Roz was leaving Pycelle’s room. He grabbed her, covered her mouth and dragged her into his alcove. He turned her around and she looked at him relieved. He didn’t like that. Since when were people happy to see him? “Clegane? What do you want?” She let her hands wander lazily down across his breast. He caught her hands. “Pycelle tried to harm Lady Sansa. Do you know why?” Roz eyes grew wide. She turned around to check if anyone was listening. “Can we go somewhere private?” She looked worried. He took her by the arm and led her to his room. He didn’t have to hide her. Roz was well-known and all he earned were some salacious smirks._

_When they closed the door, Roz moved around in his room. “I thought the Lannister reward their henchman better.” Sandor didn’t have time for that. “Did Pycelle say anything to you?” Roz looked out of the window. “He said something all right. Just not to me.” When Sandor looked at her with a questioning face, she continued. “When he is done with his women, he normally starts to talk about the good old times. Well, lately he talks as if someone else was in the room with him. Just: not me. He is either talking to ghosts or to the crows by his window.” She breathed in. “He babbled something about the others. He frightened me. His eyes were wild while he was talking about them. The others are a northern myth. He sometimes talks about someone he doesn’t name. That he had to get him and that no one could get in the way. And as if that wouldn’t be creepy enough, his eyes sometimes turn completely white. It only lasts for a short moment before they turn back to normal. But after that he is always different. He talks without any babbling, clear and without stuttering. He didn’t appear weak at all anymore. He told me one night to leave after that happened. His eyes were so cold when he looked at me, that I got frightened and ran away.”_

_Sandors blood froze in his veins. He thanked Roz and gave her some money. He told her to keep her mouth shut. She promised. Before she left, she turned around and asked him to take care of her lady. He promised. When she asked if he wanted her to keep her eyes and ears open he only nodded. Than she left._

_Sandor was tired. He went to his bedside cabinet and opened it. He took a book out of its drawer and opened it. It was written in runes. Sandor started to read. He read about the old magic, about the children of the forest, what they were able to do. He read until the sun was high in the sky. His eyes nearly went shut. He had to sleep. He went to bed, thinking about his little bird and whispering her name._

**********************************************************

  
The sun was high in the sky when Sansa awoke. ‘Midday. Just like my dream. That is no coincidence.’ She had dreamed of Sandor AGAIN. All the dreams of him didn’t really feel like a dream. They felt real. She smelled and tasted and felt and saw and heard in her dreams. Normally she merely saw something in her dreams. Not when Sandor was in them.

“Mylady?!” Shae was looking at her, relieved. “You just wouldn’t wake, Mylady. Pycelle said to let you sleep. So I did.” Sansa smiled. “Thank you Shae. I needed that rest.” Shae smiled. “I’ll get you some food real quick, Mylady.” Shae hurriedly ran out of the room. Sansa got up and walked to her desk, touching the books of her father. That smell caught her nostrils again. ‘Like that wretched lake in front of that weirwood tree of yours’, Sandor had said. Like foul eggs….like foul eggs….like foul EGGS….Sansas eyes went wide as saucers. Of course. Arya had told her once about a foul smelling substance that was normally see-through. But when heated, it turned red. It had been used as invisible ink by her ancestors very often because it could be found aplenty close to the godswood. The horrible smell vanished mostly after a while. Only few people would smell it. Sansa lit a candle and held the pages close to the fire. She let out a cry of delight when red letters appeared on the yellowed pages.

Shae came back with her food and Sansa put the book aside only to eat. After Sansa had finished Shae continued with her daily duties giving Sansa time to read.

The secret passages explained that the Starks were not only descendants of the first men, but also of the children of the forest and that numerous Stark children had inherited their abilities. “The blood of the old runs strong within the Stark family.” The pages went on, that these abilities were never to be made known, as they frightened the common people.

  
There was also a description of the manifestation of the abilities. A warg would first dream about running with wild animals. The warg would believe he was dreaming. The dream would appear very real though. The warg would normally be in the skin of a beloved pet or a direwolf. On very rare occasions a warg would warg another human being but this was very seldom and could only happen, when the warg and its host were very close.

Sansa stared at the book, breathing heavily. ‘On seldom occasions a warg can wear another human being, close to him or her.’ The book went on how to differentiate dreams from warging.   
The warg would feel its host, would hear with their ears, speak with their voice and at first think what they think. The first dreams were mere observations. The pictures would be clear, the ongoings would fit real life occurrences and there would be structure.   
A dream however, would not follow the life of one being only. A dream didn’t show real time occurrences. They would always be a little bit confusing, not structured.   
Sansa began to shake uncontrollably. What this pages described, were HER experiences with her dreams of Sandor lately. But still. It was so fantastic, it just couldn’t be.

The book went on, that the next day the warg could feel exhausted, as if he or she hadn’t slept. What was actually true. They had just transferred their soul into another body that was walking around. Even that fit her experience as of late.

A warg entered a body by imagining, that he or she was the animal, one wished to enter. The eyes of the warg would become white as their soul entered the hosts body. The same would happen to the eyes of the host for a short moment, because their soul was taken over by the warg. Within the body of the host, they had first to realize they were warging. It was similar to realizing, one was dreaming. Once you realize what is happening, you can take over control and guide the host.   
A warg should under no circumstance remain in a dying body, as the shock of the death would leave a permanent mark on the soul and would rip the soul of the warg apart forever.

Sansa had lost the track of time. After that description her dreams made sense now. She was warging Sandor Clegane. She let out a deep breath. She had no idea why she and Sandor were connected. They had not even been remotely close, when all of this had started. Their connection had strengthened AFTER her dreams started. But it couldn’t be mistaken. She was a warg.   
The ink was fading away. Right! When getting cold, the ink would become see through again. She put the book away and hid it under the other books.

It knocked at her door. Pycelle was entering. He was acting weird again. He was preparing her medicine. Sansa was watching him carefully. She saw his eyes turn white for a short moment. After that his eye color returned back to normal. His hands stopped to shake immediately, he appeared clear while mixing something together. Sansa felt a cold chill go down her spine. When he turned towards her, his voice was clear, all stammering gone. “Drink, child. This will make you feel better.”

Sansa took the mixture and looked at it. “Drink it, girl. It is good for you.” Sansa was sure of two things. THAT wasn’t Pycelle and that mixture wasn’t good for her.

 


	7. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is fighting the warg

Chapter 8:

“Come on now, my child.” The warg came closer to Sansa. “You want to get better to please your king, right? You know what he demanded!” Sansa knew, just as she knew that she was blackmailed right now. But what could she do. Her mind raced. Shae wasn’t here. She had left the room a short while ago the get her dresses washed and hadn’t come back yet. Sandor’s shift was due soon but he wasn’t here yet.

She looked at the ingredients at her dressing table, where Pycelle had put his things. One of the plants looked familiar. It was a yellow flower. It had a sepal in the form of a helmet. The two upper petals were large. The other petals were small and scale-like. Besides the flower lay tweezers.  
As a child Sansa had collected one of this flowers because it was so beautiful. Maester Luwin had ripped it out of her hand and burned it immediately. He had forced her to wash her hands too. The plant was called wolfs bane. It was a deadly poison, killing within two to six hours. The symptoms were nausea, vomiting and diarrhea. Soon burning, tingling and numbness of the mouth and face and a burning of the abdomen followed. When the poisoning progressed motor weakness occurred and the tingling and the numbness went further to the skin and the limbs. At the end sweating and dizziness began, one had difficulties breathing, got a headache and the poisoned person got confused and didn’t know what was happening.

Sansa went to her dressing table looking at the wolfs bane and the tweezers. “Did you mix this into my medicine, maester?” She looked at him as innocently and helpless as she could. He smiled. “Why, yes, Mylady. It strengthens you condition significantly.” Sansa looked at the plant. “Strange. I thought this was wolfs bane, a deadly poison, growing in the north, my home country, at mountainous parts, in moisture-retentive but well-drained soils. It is known to be one of the deadliest poisons in the whole of Westeros.” She looked at him defiantly. She was standing so close to the warg she could see his eye color. Sansa could have sworn one of his eyes, normally blue, was shimmering red. His eyes were burning with anger. But the warg contained his composure.

“But my child. I assure you, you’re mistaken. It isn’t wolfs bane.” Sansa moved closer to him. “Than what is it, MEASTER? Is this the plant that stopped your hands from shaking just some moments ago?” The warg smiled, smelling his victory. “But yes, my child. That it is exactly.” Sansa put on her most winning smile. “Than have a sip of it, too. Than we both will gain a lot of strength.”

The warg didn’t smile anymore. His fury was clear to be seen. “Smart bitch.” He wanted to hit her. Sansa moved to the side, grabbing a scalpel of Pycelle’s things. She was holding it in front of her. The cup was smashed to the floor, spilling its content. “What do you want from me?” He laughed, looking at her maliciously. “I only want to end your suffering from king Joffreys hands. It is an act of grace in your situation. He will kill you anyway. Or even worse: He will let his Kingsguard rape you in front of everyone’s eyes.” Sansa was strengthening her stance. “Maybe, maybe not. But it is for me to defend myself against that. And killing me through suffocating is hardly an act of grace. Tell this shit to someone else. ” Sansa was surprised by her own bluntness. She had never spoken like that before. The warg was laughing madly. “You will not escape me. He is mine. I will have him.” His yes were showing clear madness. “Who is yours?” Sansa didn’t let go of the scalpel for a moment. The warg tried to get to her and reached out to grab her. Sansa was launching forward and cut the warg through the length of his hand. The scalpel cut deep into his flesh. It was very sharp. The warg was howling in pain. He looked at her in wild fury and raised his hands, holding a scalpel himself. Sansa jumped to the right. But he managed to cut her left cheek. Blood was running down her cheek but Sansa didn’t care one bit. Her whole focus was on this … man … before her. He grinned viciously. He raised his hand to strike her with his scalpel again. Sansa was preparing to defend herself. But before he could reach her, he started to breath heavily. His eyes turned white for a short moment. Than his eyes turned back to their normal color.

Pycelle was staring at her wide eyed and was staring at his hand. Blood was dripping on the floor. Sansa heard a shrieking sound coming from her right. At her window sat a crow with white eyes. The crow screamed furiously at her and opened its wings and flew away. Sansa ran to the window and closed its shutters. Sansa held her breath in fear. When the lock fastened, Sansa heard a choking sound behind her.

Before her lay Pycelle, his eyes rolled into his skull, white foam covering his mouth…and he was suffocating. Sansa didn’t think. She jumped to his side immediately and bend his left leg while straightening the right. At that moment Shae came back. She looked bewildered at Sansa. “Help me!” Shae jumped to her side and put Pycelles left arm under his head. Sansa pulled at his right arm to turn him but was just to weak. Shae jumped to her side to help her. They heard an awful plopping sound. Sansa looked alarmed at her handmaiden. Pycelle vomited to the ground, choking at his own throw up. Sansa didn’t even hear the knock at her door. “Lady Sansa, I’m ready for….What the fuck?!” Sandor was beside her within half a second and helped them pull Pycelle to the side completely. Sansa grabbed two towels. Sandor held Pycelle’s tongue in place while Sansa cleaned his throat. Sansa didn’t even have time to feel disgusted. She just acted as if in trance.

When he was relatively stable Sandor looked furiously at Shae. “I only left her a short while, I swear.” Her handmaiden looked very stricken with guilt. “He said he would come and look after her after the sundown because she was so fast asleep. I thought she was safe.” Sandor obviously didn’t care. Sansa laid her hand on his arm and looked to the floor. “He lied on purpose.” Unbidden tears were threatening to escape her eyes. Sandor looked at her silently. Pycelle started to vomit again but didn’t suffocate anymore. The whole room smelled of vomit. He raised to open the window. Sansa screeched a loud ‘No!’ and both her companions froze. A change went through Sandor. “Get help, wench. And get me a whole flagon of wine. I need it.” Shae raised to leave the room. “I’m sorry, Mylady.” Sansa only nodded. When Shae had left, Sandor held her chin with his index finger and raised her face to his. “Don’t look away. Not from fear, not from danger. From nothing. Fear is good, fear is healthy.” Sansa snorted. “Said by the man who one of the most frightening things I’ve ever seen.” Sansas hands flew to her mouth to cover it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know….” He silenced her. “You knew. And you are right. I’m a murderer. You better remember that.” Sansa looked at his eyes. They were steel grey and so, so sad. “And I thank the gods every day for that.” She kissed his good cheek. “You thank them?” Sandor snorted. “Yes. A murderous friend keeps enemies away.” He caressed her hurt cheek. “And little birds attract murderers with their chirping.” They smiled at one another.

“Tell me, little bird.” Sansa embraced him. “You will think I’m crazy.” She mumbled into his neck. “Try me, girl.” Sansa breathed in heavily. “That wasn’t Pycelle.” Sandor looked at the unconscious man. “Looks like Pycelle to me.” Sansa nodded. “Have you ever heard of warging?” Sandor stiffened. “I’m not in the mood for fairytales.” Tears escaped Sansas eyes. “His eyes turned white when he mixed my medicine. He had put wolfs bane in it. I saw the flower lying on my dressing table. I knew what it was and called him out on it. He only laughed at me and said the he was his. And I don’t know who he meant with him. Honestly!” Tears were streaming down her cheek. Sandor had pulled her in his lap and rocked her like a little child. “I grabbed one of the scalpels in Pycelle’s possession and launched at him. I cut his hand. But he got my cheek.” Sandor looked at her with silent desperation in his eyes. She went on to tell him everything. Even about the crow. He closed his eyes, breathed in and got up. “You think I’m crazy?” Sandor didn’t look at her. “No! I heard stories that he mumbled that nonsense before. “ Sansa tried to dry her tears. “But you don’t think, he was warged?” He came closer to her caressing her bad cheek. “That are fairytales, little bird.” Sansa held his hand in hers. “What if they are not?”

Someone knocked at the door and opened it. They turned away from each other immediately. The king, his mother, Tyrion and a man, Sansa hadn’t ever seen before, were entering the room. “What happened here?” the king was strolling the room as if he was giving an unwanted audience. Shae entered the room with two other servants and waited for orders. The strange man ordered that Pycelle was been brought to his room in the position he was in right now. He had started to vomit again. His right arm lay lifeless before him. Shae cleared her throat looking to the arm. Sansa understood. “My handmaiden and I heard an awful plopping sound when we tried to turn Pycelle around.” “You turned him?” The strange man was surprised. “We needed help from …” she restrained herself from saying Sandors name. “ah..Ser Cleganes help.” Sandor snorted. “Not a Ser, girl.” Sansa lowered her head, mumbling that she was sorry.

The strange man looked at the queen. “She might very well have saved his life. He will be in some pain though. Sounds like they dislocated his collar bone.” Sansa winced at that. “Oh don’t worry girl. The old man while gladly take a dislocated collar bone over choking.” The queen turned to her son. Joffrey didn’t look pleased. “You are injured, Lady Sansa.” Tyrion checked her cheek. She could see the anger radiate from Shae. Sandor stiffened besides her. “It happened when he broke down. I’m afraid he cut his hand too.” The strange man looked at her. “How?” Sansa shook her head. “It happened all so quickly. I just remember him grabbing the table for hold. He must have grabbed into the knife while doing that. He held it in his hand when I tried to catch him and he cut my face.” The lie came surprisingly easy to her. She didn’t even blush.

The king looked positively annoyed by the scene before him. Tyrion was the first to speak to him. “Nephew, you fiancé did you a great favor in saving our grand maesters life. Shouldn’t she be celebrated for that?” Joffrey looked at his uncle as if he was mad. “Just imagine. The crowd seeing him and Sansa together, celebrating your wise choice of bride. Her light will shine on you.” Joffreys face lightened up. “A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinion of the sheep.” The king looked down at his uncle. The queen was laying her hand at her sons arm. “Nor should he. But it would do us good in this current predicament to remind the people that they are save with the royal family. And Sansa will be part of that family soon.” Joffrey frowned. “What predicament, mother?” The queen actually managed to not roll her eyes. Sandor on the other hand turned away from the king to do just that. “The war my boy. Just imagine. A Stark saving one of the royal household. That will cheer people up.” Joffrey nodded. “You will sit beside me at the tourney. It will be held in a week from now.” Sansa hadn’t even known there was a tourney. “And you hound, will be my warrior. You will be shining amongst these knight, beating them into the dirt where they belong.” Joffreys eyes shone with excitement. Pycelle was already forgotten by the king. Sandor nodded dutifully.

That was the moment Sansa truly grasped how dangerous Sandors help for her really was for him. Should the king ever learn that his favorite dog had become kind of friends with his fiancé, Joffrey would have him beheaded. He was a mere tool. Even less worthy than Sansa. His only worth was his skill in fighting. Joffrey thought he possessed Sandor. He didn’t even see him as something human. Tears were quelling up her throat but Sansa swallowed them down. The king left her with his entourage after that. Sandor silently went to his post. He murmured to Shae to bring the wine. Shae didn’t look too happy and started to clean the floor. Sansa didn’t know what to do and started to help. Shae who looked at her surprised and asked her to just eat something. The whole room smelled of vomit but Sansa didn’t want to open the window. So Shae did. Sansa looked frightened at the window frame. When Shae left for fresh water, Sansa asked her to close the window.

The moment Shae left the room Sansa could hear Sandor grumble at her. She knew he was angry at Shae to have left her post. She tried to eat something but just wasn’t hungry. The sun had set and it was time to sleep. She waited for Shae to help her to undress and put on her night gown.

But she couldn’t sleep. Pycelle and the warg were occupying her mind to much. Who was he? What did he want from her? And who did this warg want to get a hold on so desperately? And what did she have to do with that?

After an hour of taxing her brain, Sansa gave up on sleeping. She looked at the book and got an idea. She wanted to feel save again. There was only one place on earth she felt save anymore.  
She closed her eyes and thought of Sandor. She breathed in deeply, imagining him in front of her door, gruff, grumpy and in an ill mood.

Suddenly she tasted a bitter flavor on her tongue. Normally she disliked that but now it tasted good. It tasted of peace and forgetting. She looked at a flagon of dornish red. No! She wasn’t looking anywhere. Sandor was! She was inside Sandors mind. 


	8. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wargs consciously for the first time. And puts Sandor in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. But here is the new chapter.

Chapter 9:

Sansa felt Sandors arm raise the wine skin to his lips. His hands were shaking in expectation of the drink. He was on edge. His breathing was ragged and he was feeling hot and cold within seconds. He needed it to calm down. He couldn’t wait for the alcohol to numb his senses. His heart was beating so quickly Sansa was afraid it would jump out of his chest. He was so on edge he didn’t think he could come down in any other way. She thought about Sandor to breath in deeply to calm his nerves. It worked, he breathed in and out deeply but he didn’t calm. He wasn’t surprised at that at all. He took another gulp. That help somehow. But not really. He raised his heavy arm to take another gulp.

The dark liquid that ran down his tongue tasted bitter, just as he liked it. He hated the sweet shit. He needed the strong staff. He couldn’t endure this pressure any longer. How was he supposed to protect his little bird from a warg? This warg could appear everywhere and without warning. At this thought his heart beat increased even more and he took another deep gulp. His head started to spin a little and he felt a small relieve from the fear constricting his lungs. Finally! He didn’t know how to cope with what he felt. He hadn’t felt anything for so long. He looked at his hands with the wine skin in them, deep in thoughts.

That was when he heard footsteps coming closer. He was alarmed immediately. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and stood in attendance. His breast constricted. He was frightened. He wanted another cup of wine. Who was it this time? He was ready to attack at any given moment. When he saw it was only Iva coming around the corner he relaxed somewhat and took another gulp of wine.

“Good stuff or shit?” Iva reached for the flagon. Sandor withdrew it from her grasp and grumbled at her. “I bet you would share it with your little bird.” she pouted at him. Sandor would really rather have Sansa with him than Iva. He was close to telling her that to the face. ‘Too dangerous’ Sandor grasped her thought as his own before doing something foolish. Sansa was relieved that he hadn’t recognized her presence in his head. He handed Iva the flagon rather unwillingly. She took it and nearly emptied the whole skin. Sandor looked at the remaining content unhappily. He wanted more. He wanted to forget. He hated Iva so much right now. “That was mine!” He looked at her angrily. How was he supposed to calm his nerves now? “Oh! Don’t worry. I can get more.” Iva came closer, her hands moving down his leather armor. Iva began to hum at the feeling. “A pity I can’t feel more of you!” She smiled up at him. Sansa could feel the annoyance creep up inside of her. “No interest!” Sandor brushed her hands off and took the last remaining gulp from the skin.

“You know she is just using you?” Iva smiled at him innocently. Sansa felt Sandors heart make a painful leap and loneliness creep into him. “Who is?” Sandor didn’t want to have this conversation. “Your little bird.” Sandor snorted at her. “And how, wise woman, does she pull that of? I don’t care about her. And to what end would she do that?” Iva laid her hands back on his leather jerkin. “She tells you she cares, doesn’t she? I assure you, she doesn’t. Not really. She probably does not wish you ill, but do you really think she cares about you as a person. Look at you. You’re no pretty knight, not rich, you can’t give her pretty gifts like King Joffrey. That is what she really cares for. Someone who pays for her and showers her in gifts.” Sansa was fuming inside of Sandor. He was fuming to, entirely connected with her, but even so she could feel him see some truth in what Iva said. Sansa couldn’t believe that Sandor would really believe such bullshit. She was angry at the both of them.

Iva saw that she was winning ground with the hound. “You know, as long as you do what ever your little bird wants, she will continue using you. She will use you as a shield and risk your life by it. And the next moment she will flirt with the likes of Ser Loras.” Sansa remembered herself swooning over the knight of flowers. It hadn’t been so long ago. But it seemed like a lifetime now. Iva smiled. “She is the one with all the power over you. What does she care if your loyalty towards her costs you your head? She is just another rich girl, only caring about herself.” Maybe Sansa was just another rich girl. But she cared about Sandor. Sandor felt her anger as his own and answered the girl in her words. “What do you know? It isn’t Lady Sansa who is in power. The King is. He is making the rules. He is the one everyone obeys. Who I obey.” Iva smiled. “And isn’t that power everything your little Lady always dreamed of?” Sansa was shocked at how she was perceived. Especially because Sandor saw her like that too. If even he thought that…

Sansa felt the pain in her chest acutely. She may be naïve but she wasn’t shallow. She felt hurt, so much hurt. “I doubt she dreamed of being hit into an inch of her life.” Iva sniggered. “Of course not. But the presents and the wealth? I dare say she dreamed about that. She merely didn’t know what price she might pay.” She had Sansa there. “But if the prince wasn’t sadistic and cruel, would she ever see you as you are or consider you a friend?” Sansa froze internally. She knew the answer to this question all to well. And she didn’t like it one bit. Didn’t like what that made her.

She didn’t try to defend herself this time. There was no sense in that. Iva’s hands went over Sandors covered belly softly. “I saw you for what you are the moment we met.” Sansa wanted to cry. Iva was right. Iva hadn’t thought Sandor frightening. Iva had tried to get him from the beginning. Sansa didn’t deserve Sandors friendship.

Sansa felt like drowning. She could hardly breath. She tried to catch breath. But it wasn’t her who had to fight to breath. It was Sandor. The reaction Pycelle had to the warg, Sandor had to her now. Sansa was panicking. She had to get out of his head. She had to….had to….But she couldn’t. Their souls were clinging onto another. She couldn’t leave his mind. She was getting nauseous and felt like drowning. She took as deep a breath as she could muster, trying to save the most important person in her current life. She closed her eyes…..

****************************************  
….and woke up in her own body. In front of the door she heard retching sounds. She jumped out of bed and ran to the door, pulling it open within the second. Sandor was vomiting on the floor in front of her room. Iva was holding him, looking worried. Sansa came to them and laid her hand at Sandors back, looking just as worried as the other woman. She whispered his name, tears in her eyes. That was her fault. She was sure of it. When he stopped vomiting he leaned his head at the cold stone wall, breathing hard. He was white as snow. Sansa took his hand guiding him into her room. Iva followed them without questions.

She took a carafe of water and filled a cup with it. She handed Sandor the water. “I don’t want to wash myself.” He barked at her. Despite her worries Sansa couldn’t suppress a grin. Neither could Iva. Sansa gently caressed his forehead. “Stubborn man.” She handed him the cup again. He looked at her annoyed. “Please.” She also pleaded to him with her eyes. He took it grumbling. He drank the cup in one gulp and breathed in. He regained color immediately. He handed it back to her, asking for more. Iva snorted. “You must feel really ill, if you drink water.” Iva came closer to feel his forehead. Sansa gave him another cup. Iva opened the window. Sansa became frightened for a second, but nothing sat on the window sill. Sansa went to her wash basin and wet a cloth. She handed it to Sandor to clean himself.

“What happened?” Iva came back to him. Sansa cast her look to the floor, feeling incredibly guilty. “Too much wine.” Sandor only had had less than a flagon. That would hardly cause him to vomit. Iva didn’t look convinced. “You were hardly drunk a minute before.” Sandor looked at her with a hard expression. “Oh trust me. I was drunk enough. Drank the shit to quick. Haven’t eaten anything today.” Sansa wondered if that was actually the reason for his vomiting. She would most definitely consult her book later. But first things first. Maybe he was just hungry. She looked around in her room if Shae had left her something to eat. But Shae had taken everything with her. Iva suggested that they move to the kitchen and fetch something for Sandor. Sansa couldn’t come with them. As a high born lady she couldn’t enter the room for commoners. But Sandor looked at Iva determined. “Can’t go!” Sansa and Iva stared at Sandor. “I’m on duty!” Iva looked angry. “Sure someone else can take over when you feel poorly.” Sansa agreed with her. “Do you see anyone? I can only leave my post when the replacement is already here. My shift is nearly over. Let’s just wait another hour. Than I can leave without any trouble.” Sansa didn’t like for him to wait for another hour. She looked at Iva. “Can you get him something to eat, please. I will take care of him until you return.” Iva scoffed at her. “Of course, Mylady. Anything else?” Sansa didn’t have time for that. “Do you care for him, or not.” Sansa stared at her angrily. Iva looked at the floor ashamed and stammered a “Yes, Mylady. Immediately!” and left.

Sandor sniggered. “And wine!” He shouted after the girl. Now that he was looking slightly better, Sansa felt the tears of horror rise in her throat that her shock had kept at bay. She tried to hide them and turned away, pretending to bring the cloth back to her wash basin. She cleaned it while the tears streamed down her face. She had problems breathing but tried to be quiet about it. That was when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He wanted her to turn around but she didn’t. He embraced her from behind and whispered that he was fine. But Sansa only cried harder, starting to hiccup. Sandor sniggered. “You like that, girl, eh?” She elbowed him. But she had to snigger under her tears too. “I like you too, little bird.” He turned her around and took her in his arms. “Don’t worry. It was nothing.” Sansa saw this differently but his scent calmed her nerves and she snuggled into his arms. “I don’t want this to happen again.” She looked at him with sad eyes. He laughed. “Do you have any idea how often I lie in some corner, retching because I’m so drunk.” Sansa looked at him solemnly. “How comforting!” Sandor laughed. “My little bird gets claws, hu? First the girl than me.” She enjoyed him so close to her way to much. His body was so warm and strong. She breathed in contently. So did he. His breath smelled awful, though.

“You should take a bath and clean your teeth!” Sansa threw the hands over her mouth, horrified by her impoliteness. Sandor barked a laugh. “Do I offend your little nose, Mylady?” He was bending down to her, one fingertip under her chin, forcing her to look into his amused eyes. He was clearly not angry. She was relieved. “I’m glad your fine but your mouth really smells and normally you only smell of alcohol. I’ve never seen you unclean before.” He smiled. “May I tell you a secret?” She nodded. “I hate being dirty and smelly. ” Sansa giggled. “Just like a girl?” He raised his good eyebrow. Sansa smiled at him. “I don’t know what you smell of normally, but it smells good.” He looked at her with a smile. Sansa turned red and looked at the floor. He raised her chin again. “I’m ugly to look at, ain’t I?” Sansa shook her head violently. “I’m sorry I made you feel that I was afraid of your scars on the Kingsroad back than. You startled me but it were your eyes that frightened me. They were so angry.” She looked at the floor again. He caressed her cheek. “Am I angry now?” Sansa shook her head. “But I smell?” Sansa giggled. So did Sandor. “I’m not the worst smell here you know.” Sansa was confused. “The vomit on the floor.” Of course. Sansas eyes widened. They had to clean it. No one knew what fault the king would find at vomit in front of her door. The only thing that was for sure was, that he would punish either Sansa or both of them severely. Sansa took the cloth and ran out the door. She cleaned it as best as she could. What wasn’t much. She would need a bucket of water and a rag to clean that. Her small cloth was too small for that.

She was sitting on the floor trying to clean Sandors mess when Iva arrived with Sandors food. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Sansa, shocked. She brought Sandors food in the room, whispered something to him and left again. “Stop that Mylady. I will get a bucket.” Sansa thanked her relieved. Iva just nodded at her. Sansa went back into the room. Sandor was staring at her. She looked around herself. “What?” His eyes were wide. “You mopped my wretch.” Oh, of course he would be surprised at that. And be obscene about it. A lady wasn’t supposed to even be able to stand the smell of vomit. But what choice did she have? “What should I have done. We have to clean it. If someone tells the king there is vomit in front of my door, he will find another sick punishment for me because of some made up reason.”

Sandor nodded. “Iva is getting a bucket with water already.” Sansa nodded and pointed towards the food in front of him. He started devouring his food. The color came back to his cheeks. Sansa was so relieved to see him better.

She looked towards her ancestors book. What had she done wrong? She could have killed Sandor. Either she found a way that this was without any danger for him or she would never warg him again. Period!

But what if it happened again in her sleep? She moaned inwardly. She had to learn more about the warging. Soon! Before she went to sleep.

Iva came back to the front of her door with a bucket of water and started to clean Sandors mess. Sansa took her small cloth and bent down to help her. Iva stopped what she was doing and looked at Sansa as wide eyed as Sandor had. Sansa smiled at her and continued cleaning. Sandor came to watch them and stood in the door frame smirking. “Sansa Stark on her knees, cleaning with a maid. Isn’t that Joffreys wet dream?” Sansa threw her cloth at him, straight into his face. It slipped off his face slowly and landed on a the floor with a thud. He was dripping and Iva started to giggle. So did Sansa. Sandor only stared at them, smirking. “Be careful Mylady. Hounds can bite.” Sansa smiled. “True, but mostly they only bark. Loudly.” Iva was holding her belly with laughter. “She got you, hound. I start to like her.” Sansa was happy. Sandor looked out the window. It began to dawn. Sansa rose and took a deep breath. “Back to normal than.” Iva shot her a pitying look. She curtsied before Sansa. “Mylady! And don’t worry, I will keep your secret to myself. I like his ugly head on his shoulders.” Sansa sniggered. “So do I.” She took Iva’s hands. “Thank you.” Sandor touched her shoulder. “Back to bed with you. And you go back to your bed too.” He was heading towards Iva. She took her things and left. Sansa went into her room. She turned around when she closed her door and looked at him. The intensity of his eyes took her breath away. She closed her door.

Than she immediately took the book in her hand and held it over her candle until the red writing appeared and started to read.

 


	9. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is back at court and tries to navigate through all the traps the Lannisters have ready for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient. I was very busy as of late. But I am more free now and will update more often.

Chapter 10:

 

The next week Sansa had to attend court as usual. That meant she also had to endure Joffreys fits and had put on her mask again. Same was today. She was breaking her fast with the royal family and their closest advisors. The king and his mother were raving about tomorrows tourney. Joffrey was picturing it as a grand spectacle held in his honor. He was expecting famous knights putting each other in the dust for his pleasure, sword fighting by the strongest warriors of the seven kingdoms and shining armors everywhere. Sansa knew it to be only a small tourney, hastily patched together by the small council to satisfy the kings moods. Tyrion had told her as much.

 

Since Sansa was allowed to leave her rooms, Tyrion had taken her on daily strolls through the gardens, much to Sansas but also Shae’s pleasure because she was always allowed to accompany them. Sansa heard a lot of gossip from her two companions. Shae heard the servants talk and Tyrion the nobles. It was rather interesting to know what was going on in the palace, what knight was attending the tourney or what the servants really thought about their masters. Joffrey was feared amongst the servants and his reputation of mistreatment of even his closest servants and inferiors proceeded him. Therefore, many of his people avoided him as best they could. To aggravate this picture of the king and the royal family multiple nobles knew the crown to be highly in debt. How they had come to know that was still not known. But the damage was done.

Therefore no one expected a large win at the tourney. Additionally, the war between the five kings had made the roads unsafe for travel. Only very few knights and none of reputation and name would come to attend. Only Sandor and the Kingsguard were famous attendees. Sansa didn’t want to dwell on this, already foreseeing Joffreys displeasure and expecting his wrath because of it.

 

So she tried to think of something she had influence over for a change. As mostly as of late, her new challenges occupied her mind. She had tried to learn more about her ability as to not endanger anyone any further, especially not Sandor who had become her main consolation within the short days of her sickness. After she was well his duties were back with the king and Sansa had only seen him in the presence of the king since. She missed him dreadfully, his rasping voice, his gentle caresses, his snarky remarks, but she wouldn’t contact or warg him. She plainly refused to put him in danger anymore.

 

The book had taught her that there had never been any warg who had been able to totally take over any individual who had possessed full adult mental capacities. The grown mind simply refused to accept the other presence and pushed it out. There was no mention of vomiting and seizures, but that would fit the bill just perfectly in Sansas mind. She had concluded that Sandor probably had tried to shut her out of his mind and his body had reacted to the strain the way it had.

 

She also learned that a warged mind could be damaged permanently if forced to stay connected. The mind of the warged person would be fractured and could leave the poor soul an imbecile. It could even cause so much stress on the heart and mind that it could lead to death. The latter was very unlikely though. But still: Sansa was in no mind to try and risk Sandors mind or life in any way again. Therefore she had decided not to warg him anytime again. At least consciously. The main danger was her warging him again unconsciously.

 

To warg someone unconsciously, one had to have a close bond with another animal or person. The minds had to be in sync. That was what still puzzled Sansa. She obviously had warged Sandor unconsciously before, but Sandor and Sansa didn’t have had a strong bond when she had started warging him. They hadn’t even been really getting along before. She hadn’t feared him, had just known he wouldn’t hurt her ever, but that was it. Though she was exceedingly grateful for his very presence wherever they met by now, she didn’t feel him when he was close. The book had said, that bonded souls could even sense the other one continents apart. Sansa didn’t sense Sandor. She merely missed him dreadfully.

 

“Are you alright, little dove?” The queen looked at her mockingly. Sansa nodded and avoided her gaze. She knew she would have to comply but she was just tired of her games. Joffrey snorted. “You look pale and drawn out. Are you telling me that little episode is still affecting you?” He laughed viciously. She saw Sandor grab the pommel of his sword tightly. She smiled at the king. “Of course, your grace, being just a weak woman, I don’t possess your strength and valor.” Joffrey was so easily fooled. Some insincere compliments, a little belittling of herself and as predictably as ever…he was the happiest little boy in the whole of Westeros. She could see a ghost of a smile playing around the king’s shield lips. Sandor was also amused by the effortlessness Sansa had placated the little psychopath this time. Well, Joffrey could hardly risk injuring her like that again so soon. So she was relatively save for now. At least physically.

 

“What do you think of my tourney, Sansa?” The king looked at her expectantly. “You paint it very beautiful and grand, your grace.” Sansa looked at her betrothed rather uncommitted. He didn’t like that. “Of course it will be grand. Stupid girl.” Sansa bowed her head. “Of course, your grace.” Joffrey scoffed. “It will be remembered as one of the greatest tourneys ever held.” He looked at her with cold eyes, expectantly of her praise. “Of course, my king.” Sansa smiled at her betrothed. The king seemed more pleased. “It will be grander than the hands tourney.” He smiled proudly, getting praise from the courtiers for his grand endeavor.

 

Sansa remembered her fathers’ tourney; how brilliant and beautiful Ser Loras had fought. How he had gifted her with a rose and had smiled at her so benevolently. And how he was nearly killed by Ser Gregor Clegane. If it hadn’t been for Sandor, the young knight would be dead by now. She remembered how enraptured she had been by him. His strength and speed had deeply impressed her back than. She felt a fuzzy warmth spread in her belly. She felt it harder to breath than just a few seconds ago. She didn’t understand what caused that feeling but it felt good.

 

It probably was her memory how happy she had been that he had won back than and how she had clapped when Ser Loras had named him Champion. He had just told her the story of his scars the night before and she had felt sympathy for him. She had wanted him to feel cherished. And he had been cherished by the crowd back then.

 

“You look flushed, little dove. Are you sure, you are alright?” The queen looked at her with keen eyes. “I’m fine, your grace. Maybe I could have a drink.” A servant immediately attended to her. “My dog will put them all in the dust where they belong. Just like he did in the hands tourney, won’t you dog?” Sandor bowed. “I will do my best, your grace.” Joffrey looked at everyone in the room proudly. As if it would be him attending and not Sandor.

 

“I will gift you with a nice little whore and money if you win, dog.” Joffreys smile was cruel. “Put them where they belong.” Sansas stomach made a strange, painful flip. Sandor only nodded. His face was without any emotion. “You will have all the wine you want and people will cheer for you.” The king promised. Sansa was sure she saw boredom shine in Sandor’s face.

 

“My dear nephew,” the imp startled everyone. “you forget that your dog doesn’t like people. I swear he loves that horse of his more than he ever loved any woman, whore or kitchen maid. Maybe you should gift him a kennel. He could even sleep in it.” That was rude. Sansa didn’t understand why Tyrion had done this. Why did he humiliate Sandor like that? Sandor on the other hand looked completely unfazed. He didn’t even look in the direction of Tyrion. Sansa tried to control her facial expressions as well. She hated that she couldn’t stand up for her friend. But there was no helping it for now.

 

They were finished with their breakfast soon after. “You grace? Would you please so kind as to excuse me for now?” Sansa chirped at her betrothed. “Why?” The king was rather displeased with her request. “I wanted to visit poor grand maester Pycelle on his sickbed, your grace.” The king wanted to snap at her but his mother intervened before he could say anything. “That is a marvelous idea, don’t you think so Joffrey? You just told me yesterday that you are to busy to visit him. If Sansa takes this duty from you everybody will be satisfied.” Joffrey’s face changed into a happier expression. “But, of course. Go and visit the old dodderer. I will go and attend more important things.” Sansa smiled at him. “Of course, your grace. I’m happy I can take this responsibility of your shoulder.” Queen Cersei’s face changed to a mocking smirk. “Of course, little dove. You really are the perfect little lady?” Sansa ignored her snarky remark and left the room.

 

When she left the room, she realized that Tyrion followed her. “Why do you want to visit Pycelle, Mylady?” Sansa looked at him a little bit confused. “Because he is sick and I think he will be happy for the companionship.” Tyrion looked at her with a curious expression on his face. “Hmm…your either very smart or very naïve Mylady.” He took her hand and gave it a light kiss. “I think it is the latter. But I prefer that naivety every day to my sisters conniving and the courtier’s dishonesty. Will I see you in the garden this afternoon, Mylady?” Sansa was angry now. She vividly remembered his slight against Sandor and wasn’t really in the mood to appease him. So, she shook her head. “Oh?!” Tyrion didn’t like that. “May I ask why?” Sansa straightened her spine to make herself taller. “Because I don’t like your mood today mylord.” He looked at her confused. “What? What mood?” She looked at him angrily. “You want to tell me that this wasn’t a mood? That I misjudged you like that the whole time?” His eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?” She snorted. “The way you treat people today. First you insult the kings shield without any provocation. Than you can’t fathom why I want to visit a sick person to comfort him and than you insult me by saying I might be either naïve or a conniving snake. Both rather unfavorable judgements of my character. No! I’m not in the mood for further conversations like that today. If you’ll excuse me mylord.”

 

She turned away to walk to Pycelles part of the castle when she felt Tyrion’s hands on her arm. “I’m sorry how I treated you! Really! I am. But why would you help Clegane or Pycelle? The hound is hideous and Pycelle is old.”  She looked at him with cold eyes. “Clegane is scarred, not hideous. They say you are hideous and I never agreed with that. Would we get along if I had done that to you?” He had the grace to look ashamed now. “And Pycelle may be old, but he is a human being. Imagine yourself an old man and people talking about you like that. And ignore you to boot. Would you like that.” He looked at her thoughtful. “I’m sorry Mylady. You are right. I didn’t think. Please don’t rob me of the pleasure of your company.” Sansa leaned down to whisper to him. “You mean Shae’s company.” He smirked. “Both your companies. You are both rather refreshing.” Than he winked at her. Sansa smiled and nodded. “If you promise to be respectful.” Tyrion nodded and went away smiling.

 

When she started to walk away she felt someone else’s presence. She turned around but couldn’t see anyone. ‘Must be my nerves.’ She thought to herself and went on to visit Pycelle.


	10. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa visits Pycelle. Sandor is angry at her. So is the queen.

Chapter 11:

Sansa softly knocked at Pycelle`s door. He bid her to enter. His room smelled, it smelled of old man, a disgustingly sweet smell. Sansa tried to ignore it, but it was just overwhelming. She remembered her courtesies and entered anyway. She curtsied before the grand maester. At seeing her face, his eyes softened a little. “Ah, my savior comes to visit me?!” he smiled at her.  

Sansa had to smile too. At least in a small part she had postponed the man`s death until Sandor had arrived.

She hadn`t known that he had been told her involvement in saving his life. “How are you grand maester?” Sansa`s question was received with a kind smile.

“Better and better every day. I will recover completely. All that thanks to you as I was told.” Sansa smiled shyly at him.

“I mostly dislocated you collar bone. The hound finally managed to turn you around.”

Pycelle looked unhappy about that but nodded. “Yes! Yes! I was told! Seems he is my hero now, too.” He didn`t look pleased to be in Sandor`s debt. Most people despised her friend. Her own sister was amongst them. “You are not happy about that.” She looked at him with emotionless eyes.

 “Well…” The grand maester couldn`t look her in the eyes. “He is a loyal Lannister man, for sure.” Sansa thought it interesting that this was counted in Sandor`s favor. “But he has a tendency to mock me.”

Sansa had to hide a smirk. Yes, Sandor liked to mock people. He definitely liked to mock Tyrion and Joffrey. And somehow, he always got away with it. Though she hadn`t figured out why that was, yet. “Yes, the hound mocks people a lot. Even the king. But does that diminish what he did for you. Without a second thought by the way.”

The old man looked at the floor again. “No. I suppose not. A man should always be judged by his deeds.” Sansa agreed. But what deeds could she judge Sandor by? He had killed a boy in cold blood. And had saved her every chance he got. He didn`t participate in the many cruelties of Joffrey and was close to him nevertheless. She still tried to grasp the whole relationship between the king and his shield. Did Sandor love Joffrey? It didn`t seem like it to her. Did Joffrey care about Sandor? Doubtful! Joffrey didn`t even care about his mother.

 

“Clegane is protecting the king of the seven kingdoms since his infancy. And he protected the dowager queen for many years. That are good deeds indeed, don`t you think so, grand maester?” Sansa was curious to see the old man`s reaction.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Soon you will be a part of that noble family too. And all your family`s misdeeds will be forgotten.” He was smiling. Sansa smiled too, appearing happy. But the smile didn`t reach her eyes. She wanted to rip his eyes out. Her family never did any misdeeds. And she didn`t need forgiving. Especially not by the Lannisters.

And she most definitely didn`t want to be a part of this ambitious and cruel family. “Soon!” She answered instead with a happy tone but wanted to throw something through the room in frustration. She was getting better and better at hiding her feelings, she realized.

 

A knock on the door was pulling her out of her own thoughts. A pretty young girl of maybe fifteen years entered the room. She had a platter of food with her. It contained some chicken, ham, eggs and even some cakes. “Your breakfast, my Lord.” The girl curtsied.

Pycelle bid her to put the plate next to him. As the girl came closer, he obviously ogled the girl. As she bent down to put the plate at a desk next to the grand maester his eyes were on her …. behind. “That looks delicious, girl.” Sansa felt ashamed for the man. The girl didn`t like the attention either and left as soon as she could.

 

Sansa wanted to leave, too. “I`m afraid I have to leave you now, grand maester.” He nodded. “Ah, of course. So many things to prepare for tomorrows tourney. I`m sure you must be looking forward to it.” Sansa donned a huge, but fake smile. She could very well live without that tourney.

 

She left Pycelle`s room to continue to Tyrion`s chambers when she felt a prickling sensation in her neck. She turned around. No one was there. She continued her way. When she turned around the corner someone grabbed her and held a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. She was dragged into an alcove. She kicked and wiggled as best she could, trying to escape the grasp of whoever was holding her. She didn`t look, she didn`t care. A hard wall of muscle kept her as still as was possible with one hand over her mouth, the other on her belly holding her in an iron grip. Sansa smelled leather and wine and the stables. She screamed into the hand of the man. He tried to still her even more. Sansa opened her mouth as far as she could….and bit him as strongly as possible.

 

She heard a coarse “Ah!” behind her. The rasping voice uttering a silent “Fuck! That bloody well hurt.” Sansa froze and went still immediately hearing that voice. “So the little bird decided to stop kicking me? Good, that fucking hurt, too.” His hands left her mouth but remained loosely at her belly, not letting completely go of her. What had that man be thinking? Was he mad? She most definitely was. “Little bird is more wolf than I thought.” She could hear the smile in his voice. She pretended to relax against him, breathing hard. Sandor felt it and let go of her. She moment she felt his grip leave her abdomen she turned around and pushed him away from her. She was breathing hard, staring daggers at her friend.

 

As much as Sansa had missed him, right now she was completely angry at him. She folded her arms in front of her breasts and looked at him gloomily. He chuckled unimpressed. “I`m sorry little bird. Didn`t want to ruffle your feathers.” His whispers were hushed. Sansa narrowed her eyes. Sandor looked annoyed.

Sansa leaned closer to whisper to him. “You frightened me. I thought someone wanted to….to…!”

Sandor raised an eyebrow. “Good, then we`re even.”

Sansa looked at him perplexed. “What?”

His face turned dark. He was basically looming over her. “Because …you …frightened … me…too, daft bird.” Sansa didn`t understand. “You told the queen that you intended to visit one of the most powerful men in the seven kingdoms out of the goodness of your heart. What do you think the queen thought of that?” Sansa still didn`t get it. Sandor looked at her exhausted, angry, still holding the hand she`d bitten into.  Her teeth marks were clearly visible. Had she drawn blood?

 

Sandor first looked at his hand than at Sansa, his fury unnerving her by now. “She can`t grasp that anyone does anything without a scheme behind it. She thought you wanted to betray them and try to get Pycelle on your side.” Sansa wanted to protest but his eyes were holding her glued to her spot. His hands were moving towards her arms, grabbing them. His hold was so strong, it hurt her. “It`s not important what you meant, you innocent, daft bird.” His eyes were furious. They frightened her. It had been a while since he had looked at her that way. What his scars had never managed, his eyes did easily enough. She shivered. One of Sandor`s hands was going around her waist, pulling her closer, until their bodies were flush against each other. Sansa looked at the floor, blushing. Her heart beat in her chest. He didn`t put up with her submissive behavior. Sansa knew he wouldn`t. He wanted her to look at him. His hand went to her chin and raised her face to him slowly. She was staring into his eyes with her eyes wide as saucers. She raised her hands to his chest. The metal of his armor, which was supposed to be cold, was hot under her fingers. His hand wandered to her cheek and caressed it. “It does never matter what you meant to do. Only what it is perceived at. You must understand their way of thinking and plan your actions in advance. Or you can`t act at all. The imp had to convince them that you weren`t planning anything against them by telling his sister and nephew that you are to dumb to bring Pycelle to your side. That was dangerous, little bird.” Sansa shivered again. But this time it weren`t his eyes that frightened her.

 

She cuddled into his arms for comfort and he held her as strongly as he could. “Be more careful. Promise that.” Sansa looked up at him and nodded. He looked relieved, caressing her back. Than his body went rigid and he pulled her closer to him and into the alcove. Sansa didn`t know why, but soon enough she heard voices.

The queens voice and the voice of this strange …what was he? A maester? “We have to watch the little dove more carefully. She is getting smart.” Sansa pressed closer to Sandor, her heart beating rapidly. They alcove gave them some shelter for now, but should the queen walk any further…. And if she saw them …together …. like this….

Sandor held her close, his face pressed to her hair, his breathing was quicker than usual. If even Sandor was frightened…. Sansa didn`t even want to finish that thought. She held onto him for dear life.

“I doubt it, my queen. I actually think your brother is right. She didn`t understand what she was implying. Her look was innocent enough.”

Cersei snorted. “Innocence, feigned or real, is a great weapon. It does draw men in, like moths to a flame. Especially weak creatures like Pycelle.”

Sansa felt tears filling the corner of her eyes. Her breathing became ragged. Sandor caressed her back. She immediately felt somewhat safer. As unreal as this safety was.

“Let`s just visit Pycelle ourselves, my queen. As we planned. He will tell us readily enough. He is a Lannister man. You know that. He has been for years.”

The queen sighed. “Yes, thankfully. He is annoying but useful. I never understood his loyalty though. I prefer to know people`s motivation.”

Sandor was kissing her crown. Sansa was smiling into his chest.

 

They heard a door. And the voices were gone. She breathed a little bit easier but still held onto Sandor. He whispered into her ear that she was save now. She looked at him “Since when are you lying to me?”

He smiled. “The imp will protect you. Don`t worry.”

Sansa looked away. “I`m so stupid.” She tried to wriggle out of his embrace.

He didn`t let her and raised her chin with one finger. “Not stupid. Innocent!”

Sansa snorted. “Same thing really.”

His eyes grew soft. “You can`t help stupidity. But you can get rid of innocence.” Sansa knew he had tried to teach her that some time now. He had risked his life to do that just now. It was time she started to listen and learn. She kissed his good cheek. He smiled at her warmly.

 

They left the alcove and Sandor escorted her safely to Tyrion`s chambers. “Still hate that imp. But he is good to you. I will have to stop insulting him for that.”

Sansa smiled. “Why do you hate him so much?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Don`t!”

Sansa was surprised. “What?!”

Sandor grumbled. “Don`t ask questions, you don`t want to know the answer to.”

Sansa interjected: “What if I do…?”

Sandor snapped. “No! Now go and enjoy your flittering through the gardens!” He left Sansa without another word. Sansa stood there perplexed. She didn`t understand what had just happened.

 

The afternoon with Tyrion was pleasant enough. Shae was following them as a chaperone as Tyrion and Sansa talked. “So? How was old Pycelle?”

Sansa looked at him curiously. She wanted to know his thoughts on the matter. Her old self would have submitted. But this time she merely didn`t want to. “So? You think I`m too dumb to get him at my side?”

Shae and Tyrion stared at her and after an initial shock Shae giggled. Tyrion grinned. “No! I just didn`t want my sweet sister to throw you to the wolves.”

Sansa smiled. “I would come back as one of them.” All three of them chuckled. “Thank you, Tyrion. I didn`t think it would be taken that way.”

Tyrion took her hand and kissed it. “You`re welcome. Just don`t repeat that.”

Sansa nodded. “I take it, that I have to be meek and harmless.”

Tyrion smiled. “Exactly! I know it`s unfair, but it`s safer.”

Sansa shook her head. “No need to be sorry. I have to learn.”

Tyrion nodded, his face relieved. “So honestly. How was the old creep?”

Sansa grinned. “Creep? Ok, I possible don`t want to know. He was fine. He will recover completely. And he is so happy that I will be a Lannister soon and all my family`s misdeeds will be forgiven.”

Tyrion grimaced. “Well…”

Sansa just looked at him. He seemed to agree with…the old creep. Why? “What misdeeds have we done to you?”

Tyrion looked meek. “Not you. Your mother.”

Sansa blushed. “Oh! Yes. I forgot.”

Tyrion grinned. “I will never.” Sansa apologized. Her family obviously hadn`t done everything right.

“About your father. He didn`t understand people´s motivations and couldn`t predict their reactions. That`s what really got him killed.”

Sansa looked at him. “How did you learn it?”

His face was pained. “I did huge mistakes and suffered the consequences.” 

Sansa sighed. “Bad way to learn.”

Tyrion grinned. “But the only one.” Sansa only feared her mistakes would cost her her head.

 

“Oh sweet brother! Little dove?!” Sansa had to fight to not run away. Instead she showed a brilliant smiled and curtsied deep. Tyrion didn`t even bow to his sister. “How is Pycelle, little dove.”

Sansa smiled into the conniving face of the queen. “He will recover completely, your grace.”

She queen looked disinterested. “Wonderful. That`s good news little dove. What did you talk about?”

Sansa looked the queen directly into her green eyes.  “About the attack he had, what I could remember and what he remembered. And how good it is for me, that I will soon be a part of your great house, your grace.”

The queen looked at her searchingly. “And of course you look forward to that?”

Sansa flashed a shy smile. “Of course, your grace. This is the fulfillment of all of my dreams.” That was even true. That had been her dream not two years prior. Now she knew what a fool she had been. Just like her father. But that was beside the point.

“All of your dreams, little dove?”

Sansa nodded. She imagined herself as she was two years ago before she started to answer. “I always dreamed of marrying a lord or a knight and to be his dutiful wife and to give him children. I want to make Joffrey happy.” This sounded absolutely truthful and her younger self would have meant it.

The queen looked astonished, not able to detect a lie. Tyrion looked astonished too. The queen shared a few pleasantries and then left.

“How did you do that?” Tyrion looked impressed.

“Did what, my Lord?”

Tyrion`s eyes narrowed. “Lie that effectively.”

Sansa smiled. “I didn`t lie. I just thought of what I wanted.”

Tyrion blinked. “You want Joffrey?”

Sansa giggled. “I want to make my husband happy. As my mother made my father.”

Tyrion smiled. “With anyone but Joffrey, you would succeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tourney is to come around. Let's see, what happens there. :)


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